


All Manner of Sins

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge (NSFW version), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot Collection, Post-Game, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[30 Day OTP Challenge (NSFW version), chapters have individual summaries and content warnings.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parasites [1 - Cuddles]

**Author's Note:**

> Some things;  
> \- this will have multiple aus, not just post-game  
> \- there are huge sdr2 spoilers right off the bat so please be careful

Both of their bodies are different. “Ruined,” Komaeda says, toying with his bandage. “Destroyed.”

[cws: post-game, post-traumatic stress, angst, amputation, gratuitous description of underweight bodies(??)]

 

 

~*~

 

   It starts off a drizzly day, the kind that never existed in the simulation, but here on the real island they’re not so uncommon. They’re still waiting for their first tropical storm. Every time the skies cloud over and the water pours down, Hinata leads Komaeda from the hospital building to his cabin. He locks them both up in there because he doesn’t know how long the storm could last and he doesn’t want to risk either of them being alone.

   Hinata sits at the window and watches the rain hit in stripes. Just outside, the ocean is roiling, slapping the shoreline harder than he’s ever seen it.

   “I think this is it, this time,” he says, pressing his hand to the cool glass. “I really hope these cabins are sturdy enough.”

   Komaeda doesn’t say anything, but then, he rarely does. He lies starfished out on Hinata’s bed, his head tipped back over the far side so Hinata can’t see his face. He still isn’t used to the changes; Komaeda’s body is thinner than it was in the simulation, so skeletal from the coma and years of illness combined. Together they cut their hair back to normal, and ate special diets, and worked out to get their strength back when they could.

   There was nothing they could do about the hand, though, except remove it.

   Komaeda seems happier with just one, but then, Hinata wouldn’t know. He’s never said it.

 

   When Komaeda does speak, Hinata knows to listen.

   “You forgive me,” he says, and it’s not a question. His voice is so quiet and raw that Hinata barely hears it over the thunder outside.

   “Of course.”

   “Completely.” Another statement, and Hinata can’t deny it. “Why?”

   “We all did worse things…” Hinata fidgets, his hands in his lap. They’ve had this conversation before, but maybe Komaeda can’t remember. Hinata echoes the therapist. “It wasn’t your fault, the situation was- disturbing. It’s all in the past now.”

   “But I deserve this.” Hinata looks to his left to find Komaeda with his arms bent at the elbow, holding them side-by-side before himself. His veins are electric blue beneath translucent skin on the right hand, and the bones stick out when he flexes like that. The other forearm is only half the length, tied off with a neat white bandage. Komaeda’s head is bowed, examining. His shoulders shake with every word. “I still can’t get used to it. Can you?”

   Hinata swallows drily. He feels like maybe it should disgust him, but it never has. “There’s nothing wrong with how you look now,” he supplies carefully. He wants to reach out and touch the white cotton, just to prove his point, but he doesn’t. Komaeda has never let him.

   “Mm. Maybe you’re right. It’s not like there are many people around to see me like this, anyway.” Both of their bodies are different, but Komaeda never offers reassurance. He never offers anything. “Ruined,” Komaeda says, toying with his bandage. “Destroyed.”

Hinata is more than aware that he’s supposed to say more about how Komaeda is just fine as he is, but he can’t. It’s a waste of breath.

 

~*~

 

   They’re both soaked through to the skin and Hinata knew it would only be a matter of time before he felt cold fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He lifts his elbows, shifting to let those fingers grasp the fabric and pull it up, dragging over his stomach and his chest until the shirt is abandoned on the floor and Komaeda is peppering kisses across his bare shoulders. Sharp hip-bones press into his back, while a hand wanders across his front, and Hinata wonders why he ever thought locking himself in a room with Nagito Komaeda was a good idea.

    “Don’t you miss this, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda says, his spirits apparently lifted for the time being. They’re lit only by the bedside lamp, the sky outside gone black with storm clouds. “Why are you so tense?”

   And all Hinata can do is shrug, his shoulder-blade bumping gently against Komaeda’s lips. The warm breaths spilling over his skin recede and he hears Komaeda clumsily removing his own clothes, still not used to doing these things one-handed.

   He doesn’t expect Komaeda to understand. He doesn’t even know if he understands it himself.

   He doesn’t want to look at anyone, not even himself in the mirror.

   Komaeda nudges him until he’s turning around and they’re face to face, Hinata’s eyes averted to Komaeda’s abdomen, the same place they always wander to. The older boy’s skin stretches over his ribcage with every inhale, the bones pushing, pressing out as though ready burst from him.

   Hinata trails his fingers down where the spear once was. It’s smooth and flawless, without even a scratch or a scar. Logically, he understands why there’s no mark, no physical reminder of the metal that once impaled this part of him. But on a visceral level, it’s wrong. As if all that pain was for nothing. Imaginary.

   Hinata knows it was anything but.

   Komaeda places his knuckles under Hinata’s chin, tilting it up so that he has no choice but to tear his gaze away from that familiar spot. But their eyes don’t meet; instead, Komaeda’s wander to Hinata’s forehead, where there _are_ scars, physical reminders of a physical deed. And they’re visible to everyone, all the time. He doesn’t even have to get undressed.

   Komaeda wants him undressed anyway.

~*~

 

   Komaeda is quick to warm up once they’re both naked under the bedcovers, points of contact dotted all over their bodies with the way they’re crammed together in the small bed. His mouth has fallen closed again and it stays that way. White hair is plastered to his forehead, hanging almost-straight and heavy with water, and droplets still streak his clammy skin. His cheeks and lips are flushed pink from the temperate change.

   They don’t fit together like they used to. Hinata doesn’t feel taller or bigger or broader but he knows he must be, from all the disorientation after he woke up, the way he kept banging into things because his brain didn’t understand that his body isn’t seventeen years old anymore. Sometimes he gets tremors for no reason. He shivers with his head on Komaeda’s chest and listens to the thunder outside, that foreign bad weather.

   Komaeda is sharp all over and he never seems to know what to do with his left arm. He forgets, on occasion, how weak his own legs are, and stumbles. Hinata has seen it happen many times.

  He wants to ask if Komaeda, too, looks at their friends and sees them covered in blood, or dead with blank eyes, or mid-execution, faces calm and bodies still, accepting, waiting…

   “Hinata-kun,” he mumbles, and he’s talking so much today that Hinata almost thinks he might be back to normal at last. He daydreams about it; the day all the puzzle-pieces will come together for the both of them, all at once. The therapist said that’s not how it works, but surely they’re unique. Surely he deserves a moment to look forward to.

   Hinata hums in response, weaving his fingers through Komaeda’s wet hair.

   “What do you think we’ll do when we leave the island?” He sounds half asleep, a yawn creeping into the last word. His heartbeat thrums slow, relaxed. “Will we get an apartment, or a house?”

  Hinata pretends to think about it. Since the day Naegi and the others left, not a single manned vessel has come their way. Therapy is through video chat, with someone too far away to feel any connection to; just a face on a screen. Their supplies are dropped by military planes. On the days when it’s Hinata’s turn to sit up on the roof of the main building and keep watch, all he sees is the blank and empty ocean, swimming in his vision for hours on end.

   “I don’t know.” He smiles against the other boy’s skin. “Why don’t you tell me?”


	2. Everything [2 - Naked Kiss]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komaeda walks in on Hinata naked and decides to make it even.
> 
> [cws: non-despair high school au, fluff, crack?, exposure without consent(?), vaguely sort-of-but-not-really sexual content]

   The gym facilities are deserted at this hour, most people choosing to come by around dinnertime and not straight after class like Hinata does. He likes it; swimming lengths in the empty pool when it’s just him and a stranger in the year below who doesn’t even look his way, just keeps striking the water. He powers through it, heartbeat fluttering and cramping with the knowledge that he’s meeting Komaeda for dinner later.

   When the workout is over, he showers, and dries himself off in the completely empty changing room. He stands with one leg up on a bench, bent over to attack his hair with his already damp towel.  

   There’ s a hesitant knock on the door, and a voice from behind it gets his attention. 

   “You’re in this one, right? You were late, so I figured I’d just come and meet you- are you in there?”

   The door creaks open without warning, and before he can get out much more than a rush of, “ _Komaedapleasedon’tI’m_ -”, he’s panicking. His muscles jump with the knowledge that moving _could_ make this so much worse, but he _has_ to, and he’s frozen with indecision. When he looks up and sees Komaeda standing there, all he manages to do is drop the towel.

   And from the way Komaeda’s wide eyes go from his face to between his legs, eyebrows practically in his hairline, Hinata knows that even if he was obscured before, he certainly isn’t now.

   Everything moves at once.

   “Get out!” He yells, hands diving between his legs to hide himself, but Komaeda has already fled, the door slamming closed behind him. “Fucking-,” Hinata says to the empty room, collecting the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist just in case. His face burns with embarrassment. “ _Jesus_.”

   “I’m sorry!” Komaeda pipes up, his voice muffled from behind the heavy door. “I didn’t know you were- Hinata-kun, I really didn’t mean to barge in on you like that!”

   Hinata doesn’t reply, just snatches his clothes up from the bench and takes them into one of the cubicles. He can still hear Komaeda talking, but blood is rushing in his ears and all he wants to do is curl up under one of the benches, clothed this time, and never emerge from this changing room again.

   He dresses, and then spends several minutes fixing his hair in the mirror until there’s silence and he’s pretty sure Komaeda is gone.

   It’s not that he’s angry, and he hopes that’s not the conclusion Komaeda will jump to. It’s just that Komaeda now holds knowledge of what his penis looks like, what his entire naked _body_ looks like, and nobody else in the world does.

   And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just some random classmate, but it’s Komaeda. And Komaeda’s opinion actually _matters_.

   And Hinata just isn’t ready to deal with that. Trying his hardest to ward off the guilt creeping up on him, he sends Komaeda a text saying not to bother meeting him later. He gets no reply.

 

   It’s late when Hinata gets back to his room. Hours of desperately trying to distract himself by studying in the library have left his vision hazy, eyes sore and tired for squinting too long at the small print in textbooks he really couldn’t care less about. He swipes his ID card through the lock, and when the door is open just a crack he realises the light is on inside, spilling out into the hallway.

   He quirks an eyebrow. He sure he switched it off before he left, but he’s already throwing the door open without thinking twice.

   The first thing he sees is bare shoulders, peeking up from above the back of his desk chair, the nape of the neck mostly obscured by the shock of white hair’s easily recognisable as Komaeda’s. His entire posture is relaxed, head titled as though contemplating the notice board in front of him, littered with pinned-up notes about exam dates and homework assignments.

   The door swings closed behind him before he thinks to stop it, and those pale shoulders start with the sound.

   “Oh! Hinata-kun!” Komaeda leaps up from his chair, and Hinata reflexively throws his hand up to shield his eyes, because Komaeda is definitely not _just_ shirtless and he has no idea what else he’s supposed to do. “Oh dear _, it seems you’ve walked in on me_!”

   “Komaeda, this is _my_ room!”

   And it isn’t that Komaeda is breaking and entering or anything; he’s had a key ever since one late-night talk session resulted in them solemnly promising that if the other should die in a freak accident or something, they would clear their room of anything incriminating, and smash the deceased’s laptop to pieces. The problem isn’t that Komaeda is _there_.

   It’s that he’s _naked._

   Hinata spreads his fingers apart just to make sure and _yep._ His eyes dart between Komaeda’s legs and he is _definitely_ naked. No doubt about it. 

   “Ah, but I just came by to get the shirt I left here yesterday, and- and I thought, ‘Hinata-kun won’t be home for hours, why not change here?’ and then you came in!”

   The story is obviously rehearsed, and heavily flawed, but Hinata can’t help but laugh at the eagerness with which he tells it. Carefully, he reveals his eyes again, making sure to keep them trained on Komaeda’s face as much as he’s tempted to look elsewhere. In his periphery he can still see the blur of creamy-white skin, but he tries not to focus on the details, _please don’t focus on the details-_

   “So you don’t have to feel uncomfortable now. Because you’ve seen me too,” Komaeda says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest with a small smile, and Hinata wishes he could cross them over something else because it’s getting _really_ difficult to keep his gaze above the waist.

   “I didn’t feel uncomfortable to begin with.” He decides to try a different tactic, turning to look pointedly at his coat-rack instead. He's only lying a little. “I mean, you were going to see it anyway, right? At least, I hope so…”

   “Sure.” Komaeda nods before turning to the bed, where he’s neatly placed his clothes in a little pile. He selects his underwear and Hinata politely turns away, staring at his door and humming until Komaeda taps him on the shoulder with one bony finger. He finds the other boy fully dressed, coat and all, face oddly flushed as though the embarrassment has suddenly caught up with him. “It’s late. I suppose I should get going.”

   Hinata makes a vague noise of assent. “Yeah, it’s… it’s late.”

   Komaeda hovers uncertainly in front of him for a moment before taking a couple of steps forward, sliding his eyes closed just a split-second before pressing a quick, dry kiss to the tip of Hinata’s nose. He draws back confused, eyes snapping open again, brows lowered.

   Hinata laughs and his puzzled expression. “I think you missed?”

   “Sorry,” Komaeda says, and the blush is only getting worse.

   Hinata braces himself with his hands on Komaeda’s shoulders before easing up onto his tip-toes and doing the same, sure to make a little _mwah_ sound before he pulls away, for extra effect. “Goodnight then.”

   “Goodnight.” Komaeda nods curtly at him before skirting around to the door and leaving quickly, closing it almost silently behind himself. As soon as the older boy is out of sight Hianta hears an eruption of raspy giggles in the hallway, the soft _thud_ of hips hitting the hollow wooden door to lean against it.

   He hesitates, considers knocking sharply to give Komaeda a fright, but instead he listens as he breathless laughter recedes. He swears he hears something self-depricating mumbled through a smile before there are footsteps, and then silence.

 

~*~

 

   The next time is months later, when testing season is upon them and Hinata leaves his last exam to find Komaeda already waiting for him, sitting on the corridor floor with his book-bag at his feet and tapping away at his phone although he hasn’t noticed the mass of students spilling from the big double doors.

   Breathless, Hinata slumps down the wall beside him and nudges him hard on the arm with the point of his elbow. “Hey,” he says, and Komaeda looks up, attentive, “Guess what?”

   Komaeda says, “What?”

   Hinata grins. “We’re _free_.”

   Komaeda’s face lights with a smile, too, when Hinata gets to his feet and takes his hand, pulling him up off the dusty laminate. “For the summer,” the older boy points out, trailing deliberately slowly behind as he’s pulled along by the arm, his boyfriend practically skipping down the corridor in front of him.

   Hinata was one of the last out of the exam hall, but some are still lingering around, and he supposes he’s practically causing a scene, but he’s never cared less about anything in his life. “That’s right,” he says, turning abruptly and jerking his arm so that Komaeda stumbles right up to him. “The whole summer. Just the two of us.” Before the older boy can do anything but laugh, Hinata is pulling their bodies together, waiting only for a small nod from Komaeda before their lips meet, too.

   It’s hot outside and he can feel the warmth of Komaeda’s skin beneath his thin uniform shirt, no longer hindered by a blazer like he is every other day of the year. On an impulse he slides his hands beneath the fabric, trailing his fingers up and down Komaeda’s sides and eliciting a gentle sigh from him.

   “Oi,” someone says, slapping Hinata’s arm with a piece of paper. “Get a room, will you?”

   And the look on Komaeda’s face , the spark in his eyes, says, _yes. We will._

   They stumble all the way to the dorm corridor like that, pausing every once in a while to press fleeting kisses to each other’s lips when they just can’t wait any longer. The school is practically deserted by now; almost everyone is either celebrating in town or on the train home by now, with only a couple of stragglers pausing to give them exasperated looks. Hinata tries to compose himself when a teacher passes by, but it’s hard. The whole school feels like an obstacle course, and his bedroom is the glorious end goal.

   Hinata’s dorm is a mess when they get there, but he’s too worked up to be shy. Unceremoniously, he shoves the open and half-full suitcase off his bed and onto the floor. Komaeda only stands by and watches until he’s done, clearly bemused by this whole situation.

   He doesn’t have to wait long. As soon as the bed is cleared Hinata’s attentions are focused again, because with his adrenaline pumping like this it feels _wrong_ not to have his mouth on Komaeda’s, kissing him more eagerly than he ever has before, letting his hands wander. If Komaeda didn’t have the same rush to begin with, he does now; Hinata is sure of it from the noises he makes, whimpers and little moans when Hinata does something unexpected, and Komaeda is always kind of loud but never like this. Blindly, Hinata manages to walk them backwards to the bed, pulling Komaeda on top of him.

   “Hinata-kun.” Komaeda eases himself to sit upright, one knee planted on either side of Hinata’s hips, and pushes his hair back from his forehead. His skin is flushed hot, and Hinata doesn’t know if it’s from the weather or the situation but he hopes he’s responsible. He knows he’s probably in a similar state.

   He leans back over to kiss Hinata lazily, _languidly_ , and Hinata feels a rush of gratitude for all those early, awkward, messy make-out sessions, because it’s like it’s all been leading up to this. And this is perfect. “Mm,” Komaeda mumbles. “What are we doing?”

   “Celebrating.” He’s dizzy as he fumbles to undo the buttons of Komaeda’s shirt, getting almost all the way to the top before he remembers the stupid _tie_ is there. Seeming to read his mind Komaeda takes care of it, nimble fingers loosening the knot and pulling it loose, and the next minute the red fabric is abandoned on the floor and he’s shrugging the shirt off of his shoulders.

   Hinata only watches in a daze as the shirt is removed and then Komaeda is working on his, busy fingers occasionally brushing the skin underneath as he undoes the buttons and then pulls the shirt open as though he’s unwrapping a gift. “You have freckles,” is all he says, pleasant surprise in his tone, brushing shaky fingertips over Hinata’s shoulders where they’re concentrated the most, gradually fading out down his chest and back and arms.

   “Only in the summer.” Hinata shrugs, shifting himself so that Komaeda can get his shirt off. It takes a little awkward wriggling, but soon he’s free from it.

   Something in the air changes and Hinata stops, simply resting with his head back on the pillows and his hands on the bare waist of the boy who is essentially straddling him. All he can do is look at the night before him, and he knows Komaeda feels it too. They only look at each other, waiting. Anything more would be too much.

   “Do you…” Komaeda begins, but then hesitates. He isn’t anywhere near as self-conscious as Hinata would be in his position, apparently not at all fazed that his chest and stomach are on full display and that Hinata just can’t stop touchinghim. “Do you have them everywhere?”

   “Not everywhere.” His confidence is fading with the adrenaline rush.

   “What about on your… legs?” Komaeda suggests, and Hinata nods dumbly.

   “Yeah, I have some on my legs.”

   “Can I see them?”

   Hinata nods again, but Komaeda only stares at the button on Hinata’s uniform trousers for a moment before focusing on his face again. “Ah, maybe you should do it, this is- I mean, it’s a little hard.” At Hinata’s mortified expression, he backtracks, “No, I mean it’s difficult! Undressing someone else is difficult, you should… you should do it,” he finally concludes, dismounting from his position on Hinata’s thighs and relocating to the bed in one smooth movement. “Mind in the gutter as _always_ , Hinata-kun,” he adds with a smile.

   “Well _excuse_ me,” Hinata replies, undoing his own trousers and pushing them down off his hips. His desperation to be all over Komaeda has only slightly abated, but the heat of the room hasn’t, and it feels good to kick his trousers and shoes and socks off after a day of suffering through exams in oppressive clothing. He feels weight shift in the mattress and in periphery sees Komaeda getting up to do the same.

   Hinata has never had a gym class with Komaeda, and for a moment he’s glad for that fact, because he’s sure that if he did, he’d spend the entire time gawking and Komaeda’s legs and perhaps seriously injure himself due to distraction. While his own body has more balanced proportions, Komaeda’s legs are _long_ , slender like the rest of him, and all Hinata can think about is what it would feel like to have them wrapped tight around his waist. And just like that, the desire is back and he’s pulling Komaeda down onto the bed again, unable to _not_ be kissing him, to _not_ have one hand trailing over the soft, pale skin any longer.

   Komaeda groans against his lips, and it’s not long before they’ve found a rhythm and a comfortable way to settle themselves. Sunlight and fresh air stream in through the open windows and for a moment everything seems right in Hinata’s world; he’s warm and carefree with Komaeda making the most delightful noises, their bodies touching all over without the usual barriers of clothing between them.

   But even just a little restriction is too much. Gingerly Hinata’s fingers find the waistband of Komaeda’s underwear. The other boy tenses above him, and he pauses. “Really,” Komaeda says, finally stopping the kiss, breathing shallow. “What are we doing?”

   “Kissing? I don’t know,” Hinata says, distractedly. He’s running on instinct now; he doesn’t really know what he wants, or what he’s ready for. All he’s sure of is that he doesn’t want it to be over yet.

   “Just kissing?” Komaeda’s tone is amused. “Without clothes on?”

   Hinata nods, accidentally nudging their foreheads together in the process. “If you want.”

   “I do,” he replies after a moment. “It’s not like it’s new. We’ve already seen everything.”

   “What? We have?”

   “Mmmhm,” Komaeda says, arching his back to allow Hinata to push his boxers down, over his ass, down his thighs. “Don’t you remember the time… I walked in on you? And then you, ah _, walked_ _in on_ me...?”

   And all at once Hinata does remember, and he laughs into the older boy’s shoulder as he feels thin fingers at his own hips, seeking out the fabric and then just as quickly getting rid of it. He doesn’t look down, for some reason feels like it would be wrong to see what he can already feel against him.

   His eyes close as Komaeda kisses him again, their lips meeting softly, anxiously. Despite what Komaeda says, this _is_ new, and never in his life has he felt so vulnerable, even when Komaeda was clothed and staring at him. But somehow, despite all reasoning, it isn’t bad.

   His fingers comb through Komaeda’s hair, pulling him insistently closer, closer, even when their skin is sticking with the heat. Contentment thrums through every nerve in his body. And for now, he doesn’t want anything more than this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how it shows up for other timezones, but in mine i posted the first chapter on the 28th. so if it looks like i skipped a day... i didn't. ^^  
> also this is like double the length of the other one... oops.


	3. Cameras [3 - First Time]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komaeda just wants his first time with Hinata to be perfect.  
> And that isn't asking so much, he thinks.
> 
> [cws: dangan island au, second person pov, sexual content, unsafe sex, loss of virginity, several hundred references to masturbation]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that the established relationship tag goes for all chapters! this one seems kind of weird at first if you don't take that into account.

   You like to plan. It’s what you’re good at, what comes naturally to you. Something about the way your synapses connect makes it easy to see the flaws, so you’re well capable of charting out any course of action you set your mind to and following it through smoothly; it’s your _skill_. Despite what some may think, you don’t rely on blind luck. You know how to get what you want.

   And what you want is for your first time with Hinata to be perfect.

   That isn’t asking so much, you think.

 

   You dwell on it whenever your mind is idle; and on the island, it usually is. Scenario after scenario flickers through your mind when you’re lounging around on the beach, or trying to read sprawled out on your bed, or eating dinner with the others at the hotel, having long given up focusing on whatever they’re talking about.

   You picture being pressed against the outside of one of the cabins, at night, with the moonlight reflecting in the ocean behind you, and Hinata ravaging you just like that. Hinata slamming into you hard, and you have to fight to contain the whimpers and moans that build in your throat, and grip Hinata’s hips so hard you leave an array bruises across the other boy’s skin. But that seems impractical at best, and dangerous at worst.

   Sometimes, you picture being in the shower when Hinata raps on the door, says, “Can I come in?” and you only hum, still nonchalantly soaping your body up, facing the spray when you hear the curtain being drawn back and Hinata steps in behind you. You press your slender body back against the younger boy’s, tilting your head back, inviting Hinata to kiss your neck or even bite it if he wants to. And through a haze of steam you end up with one hand gripping Hinata’s hair, the other bracing yourself against the wall as you watch your own length move in and out of your lover’s body. That thought has gotten you off more than a few times, but you’re pretty sure that in real life it’s more than likely that one or both of you would end up falling on the slippery tiles, and the risk just isn’t worth it. At least not for the first time.

   No, the fantasy that dominates your thoughts most of the time takes place in Hinata’s cabin. There are candles lit; he put them there, to set the mood, to get the lighting as flattering as it possibly can be. Hinata is thoughtful like that. You go inside, and Hinata closes the door and then pushes you up against it, kissing you so slowly, so sensually that you can have no doubt in your mind what his intentions are.

   And after any amount of teasing (this varies, depending on how in-depth the daydream is) you find yourselves naked on the bed, bathed in the candlelight, and Hinata leans over you and kisses your lips and breathes, “I _want_ you.”

   And you are more than happy to oblige.

   You don’t draw up blueprints or anything, but you’re sure you can make your fantasy into a reality with the right set of circumstances; and circumstances can always be engineered.

   The only problem is the cameras.

 

   You visit Hinata’s cabin several times over the next few days and take the opportunity to scope it out. As far as you can tell, there are only two - one in the main room, and one in the bathroom. The one in the main room points straight at the bed, just like the one in your own cabin. You groan under your breath. _Of course it does_.

   You aren’t sure what the cameras are for, or who is watching them, but from the way Usami acts you’d bet it has something to do with trying to curb exactly the kind of inappropriate activity you have your heart set on.

   When Hinata leaves to get food from the hotel and bring it back for lunch, you drag his desk chair over and climb up on it, clinging to the back so as not to fall. Carefully, you reach for the wires that feed from the camera’s body into the wall. You’re sure there must be a way to temporarily disable them without destroying the entire thing, and perhaps without drawing attention to it. You have considered somehow looping the video feed, but that wouldn’t be easy, and asking Souda for help would lead to questions…

   As soon as your fingertips brush against the thick, black wires, there’s a _pop_ behind you. You start, almost fall, but catch yourself just in time to hear Usami shriek. “Komaeda-kun! Just what do you think you’re doing? The secuwity camewas are there for a weason, you know!””

   Hinata returns with the food basket to find you with your head bowed, Usami still mid-lecture. You can just make out a smirk on his face as he goes about setting the plates out on the bed, fruit and sweets and sandwiches with colourful fillings, tiny servings of pasta and soup; there never seems to be a shortage of anything on this island.

   Just as he’s prying off the tops of your drinks off with a bottle-opener, Usami _pops_ away again, and he gives you a knowing look. “You touched the camera, didn’t you?”

   “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly, taking your place on the bed. “Do you think there’s a way to get rid of it? There’s no privacy, you know…”

   “I’ve tried, but she just _knows_.” Hinata shakes his head. “We’ll figure something out.”

 

   You walk home that evening with the sound of cicadas chirping at your back. Your lips still feel sensitive, your spine still tingling from the shame of having to kiss Hinata in front of the cameras. It always takes a while before you can lose that feeling of somebody’s eyes all over you, _recording_ you, and this time you didn’t quite get there.

   You’ll figure something out. You have to.

   And that night, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, sleep escaping you, his mind whirring with plans, plans, plans -- you do.

 

~*~

 

   In the short time you’ve spent on this island, Hinata’s bed has quickly become your favourite place to be.

   He lets out a happy sigh, glossy eyes roaming over your newly-revealed skin as you pull your shirt up over your head, throwing it with good aim over the back of the desk chair. “You look so good,” he says when you return to him, crossing your wrists behind the nape of his neck as he shifts himself over you.

   His still-mostly-clothed body eclipses you from the camera’s field of vision, and if they can see what you’re doing, they clearly don’t care, as no Usami appears to stop you.

   Hinata’s lips are petal-soft and he tastes like fruit juice. You squirm with the feeling of him on top of you, over you where he should be. You’re constantly in awe of him; his strong body, the way he gets so flustered whenever you dote on him. But more than anything, what steals your breath away every time is that it’s _you_ he gives his attention to. Not all the time, of course, but as far as you know most of his time is spent with you, and he’s willing to kiss you and touch you and talk to you like an equal. Soon, you’re sure this lucky streak will end, but for now you plan to squeeze as much enjoyment out of it as you possibly can.

   Hinata’s hands are wandering now, and you let out an embarrassing little yelp as tentative fingers brush over your crotch, where the fabric of your underwear is already straining to contain your growing arousal. You don’t hold back though, arching your back so he knows this is what you want. He traces the line of your cock, touch so feather-light he might actually think it’s made of glass. To prove him wrong, you buck your hips up, impatience thrumming through you. You don’t want to wait any longer.  
  
   If he won’t say it, then you will.

   You lean up on your elbows, letting him continue his ministrations while your tongue flicks out to lick the shell of his ear. He shivers, and there’s a burst of confidence in your chest as you lower your voice and whisper, “I _want_ you…”

   “Oh god.” He pulls away, sitting upright and leaving you lying there all spread out and vulnerable, exposed to the camera where his body was shielding you just seconds before. His cheeks are tinted with a deep pink flush, and he looks at you with wide, dark eyes. “You do?”

   And that’s not _quite_ the reaction you were expecting, but you swallow your anxiety and steel yourself against the potential rejection. “Of course I do, Hinata-kun.” You flash your best devilish smile, and spread your legs slightly. “What else do you think I’m so worked up about?”

   His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and for a moment you think you might have pushed things too far. His eyes rake down your body, from your undoubtedly blushing face to your chest, to your stomach, rising and falling with rapid breaths. Finally they fixate where your arousal is clearly visible beneath your underwear, and you feel yourself twitch under his gaze. He reaches out to touch, but then draws back. “Are you sure about this?”

   You nod firmly. “But only if this is what you want,” you add, trying to keep your tone airy, casual. “There’s no pressure, Hinata-kun. Someone like me should only be striving to make you happy, after all, and not focusing on my own selfish pleasures, that’s-”

   When you catch his exasperated look, your mouth falls shut, and you force yourself to smile. You draw your thighs closed and sit up on your knees. You’re still burning with arousal, but force yourself to stay patient. Clearly, Hinata isn’t as eager for this as you are. But you don’t know what you expected.

   Your thought process is cut short when suddenly you’re being pulled forward by the waist, Hinata’s lips meeting yours with ferocity you didn’t expect. You struggle to keep up, involuntarily keening when the tip of his tongue traces your bottom lip, not because you can’t handle it but because you know where this is going.

   And he wants you.

   And you want him.

   And this is perfect.

   “Go in the corner,” you say breathlessly. He blinks at you. You shrug, gesturing to the corner you mean. “Haven’t you noticed that the camera can’t turn all the way around? It has a blind spot. And it’s that corner.”

   He gets it and goes where you asked, pulling you along by the arm, more roughly than you think he really intends to. Along the way he grabs a bottle of something off the dresser, and then fits himself into where the two walls meet. You press your body against his, grinding mindlessly against his thigh for a moment and savouring the moan that escapes his lips before you remember that you’re free to take your underwear off now, and the thought sends a thrill of excitement through you. You waste no time in pushing the fabric down your legs and kicking them off, and then following suit with Hinata’s, easing them carefully over the erection that you’ve been so foolishly ignoring until now.

   His gaze is locked on your face as you lick your lips, wrapping your fingers around his length and pumping your fist down and back up again, deliberately slow. You’ve done this to him before, but you never get tired of hearing the sounds he makes, feeling that radiating heat beneath your palm. In all honesty, you doubt you ever will.

   But you want more. You want to feel him trail kisses from your forehead to your lips to your jaw to your collarbone, mumbling incoherently as you make him come undone. You want to watch his abdominal muscles flex with irregular breaths, more and more erratic the closer he gets. With your other hand you reach for the buttons on his shirt, but he stops you, gently halting you with his fingers clamped around you wrist.

   Wordlessly, you nod your understanding and abandon your effort. He’s seen you naked before, and you’ve never really felt shy about it, but apparently he doesn’t feel the same way. You don’t mind, though. It fills you with indescribable satisfaction when you see him wearing that shirt around the island, knowing you’ve gotten him off before while he was wearing it. You can’t imagine how you’ll feel to see him wear it after today.

   You readjust your hips, sliding your own length alongside his and gasping at the sensation, because it’s new and he’s so _close_ , and as you wrap your hand around the both of you you can’t help but slide your eyes closed, consumed by the feeling, only barely reciprocating when Hinata’s lips find yours again. There’s a _thud_ as the bottle falls to the floor, forgotten.

   A moment later, you realise with a start that his free hand has found its way to your ass, and you pull back, letting go of his cock and ignoring the whine of protest. As soon as you look at him, admiring the magnificent blush that’s creeping across his cheeks and reddening his lips, he averts his gaze, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. All he says is, “Wow.”

   You know what he means.

   “Are you… ready?” you ask, bending down to pick up the bottle he dropped and realising with dismay that it’s baby oil, not proper lubricant, but you’re too far gone to care at this point. It seems to be all they have on the island anyway. You straighten up and open the cap, eyes flickering to his face to check for assent.

   “I’m- yeah. Are you um, sure you really want to…?” He looks on warily as you drizzle the oil all over your fingers, already reaching behind yourself. You’ve considered this many times, and ultimately decided it would be better for you to take this role, at least the first time. You think you have a better idea of what to do than he would, although the notion of being wrong about that sends a delighted chill through you.

   Concern is seeping through the look of lust on his face. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not that I think I’m- exceptionally- you know.” He trails off helplessly, and you press a fleeting kiss to his lips, hoping to reassure him while you’re busy working fingers into yourself.

   It doesn’t hurt, since you already prepared yourself quite adequately before you left your cabin this morning, but you’ve never done this standing up before and it shows. You’re awkwardly leaning forward with your mouth against his shoulder, arm bent in a bizarre and painful position, and it takes all of ten seconds before Hinata notices your discomfort.

   “Here,” he says, taking the bottle from where you’re still slackly holding it in your other hand. “Let me do it? And we should sit down, this is-”

   “Ridiculous?” you suggest with a smile, withdrawing your fingers and letting him slick up his own. You’re getting restless now, needy, and you can tell from the way he fumbles with the bottle that he’s feeling the same way. For now, nothing else matters except getting more of him, all over you, inside – anywhere.

   “I was going to say ‘not working’,” he clarifies, pulling you gently down with him. He leans back against the wall, and you straddle his hips, feeling his wet fingers immediately searching for your hole and then pushing in too quickly. You wince, and he looks mortified. “Sorry,” he says, holding still until you’re comfortable, and then you nod, mind blanking with the knowledge that he’s _inside_ you.

   As soon as your sense returns you start working his cock again, coating it liberally with the oil that’s now all over your hands, slowing your pace every time he groans too loud, gets too close. Your hips rock forward involuntarily as he adds another finger, and then another until he has three inside you and in this position he can’t really reach your prostate but you can tell he’s trying. You ache with the need to touch yourself, but you don’t – you don’t want to lose it too soon.

   “Okay.” You take in a deep breath, letting go of his erection to brace yourself, palms on his clothed shoulders. Your skin feels prickly all over with heat, and you shake a little as Hinata eases his fingers out of you, gently biting down on your bottom lip to distract you from the slight twinge of pain.

   To your surprise you find his other hand moving up to caress your face, brushing his knuckles softly against your cheekbone. Both of you are trembling, some bizarre combination of arousal and anxiety that you’ve never felt before, and your heart is beating so hard in your chest you’re sure that he can hear it.

   “Nagito.” The word comes hesitant, and your stomach twists with the fear that he’s going to ask you to stop.

   You meet his eyes with apprehension, and you want to say something, to tell him you want this _so badly_ , to say you’ve brought yourself to orgasm thinking about this so many times since he first touched you like this, and you’re so glad it’s finally real, and you love him, your heart is bursting with the knowledge that _you love him-_

   But all you come out with is a distracted, “Hm?”

   “I’m really glad this is with you.” He says it all in one rush of breath, and then his fingertips are moving to your mouth, and you kiss them once before he trails them over the pulse-point on your neck, down your chest. He follows the curve of your ribs and then your spine until his touch is gone and then you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, lined up for you to sink down on.

   And you do. Tilting forwards to rest your forehead against his, you slowly lower your hips, gasping a little as you feel him opening you up. His hands go to your waist and he gasps, too, something incoherent that sounds almost like a slurred version of your name. You take him all in one slow, hesitant motion, fighting the burn and stretch and only pausing when you feel that he’s all the way inside.

   “Oh my god,” he says, and the awe in his voice has you chuckling even though you’re breathless, resting to adjust the feeling of him inside you. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as you thought it would. Experimentally, you clench your muscles tight and Hinata’s entire body shudders.

   “Good?” you ask, even though the way he’s clutching and kneading at your skin tells you all you need to know. He wants you to move. He wants more.

   “So good.” He presses a kiss to your jaw. “H-how are you…” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you move yourself up and back down again, re-impaling yourself on him. You swear you can feel every beat of his pulse like it’s an electric shock. “How are you taking me so easily…?”

   The question sends a pang of fear through you until you notice he’s impressed, not accusing. But you don’t feel like sharing your masturbatory habits with him right at this moment, so instead you revel in the sensation of your face growing hotter as you start moving again, flexing your thighs and trying to find a rhythm.

   He can’t move his hips with you pinning him, but to your surprise he wraps his fingers around your cock, stroking you languidly, the movements fluid and practiced. He can see your whole body in this position, and you can tell he’s taking advantage of that. It’s like he doesn’t know where to settle his gaze.

   Before long involuntary little moans are spilling from your mouth, and you don’t bother to keep quiet. You tilt your body backwards, and then forwards again, searching for the angle that’ll hit you _just right_ , and when you find it, you let him know with a frantic cry.

   Things get a little hazy after that. A few times you lose your focus and he slips all the way out, but it only takes a moment and a quiet apology to rectify. You want to talk, to tell him how damn _good_ he feels inside you, how full he’s making you feel, but all that comes out is whimper after needy whimper. You’re chasing your orgasm, trying your hardest to store away every single one of the sounds he makes in your memory, letting your inhibitions be drowned out by the desperate noises that fill the room, the sounds of his hand on you and his cock _in_ you, and skin slapping against skin as you ride him. 

   Your voice sounds so unlike your own, broken as you whine his name. “Hinata…”

   Your eyes have been closed for a while now, head tilted back in pure bliss, the position making it difficult for him to kiss anywhere but your neck. The sensations are overwhelming, coming to a peak and you feel Hinata’s breathing becoming more and more laboured beneath you until he comes without warning and you _feel_ it, the warmth spreading deeper inside you than you thought possible. You open your eyes a crack to see him gazing up at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life.

   That look is what pushes you over the edge, your muscles going rigid as you sink down on him one last time and blinding, white-hot pleasure shoots through every nerve in you. You come all over his shirt and your own stomach, making choked little noises you hope he won’t remember in the morning. “ _Oh_ ,” you sigh as he strokes you through it, murmuring praise against your skin and peppering your clavicle with sweet, chaste kisses as you come back to yourself.

   Tears sting your eyes when realise that it’s over, but you manage to stay relatively composed while you shift yourself off him, trying your hardest to ignore the wetness that’s already escaping from you and hoping that he does the same. Catching your breath, you lean back against the wall beside him, staring up at the camera that’s still focused on the window in its failed attempt to track you.

   His breathing is shallow. “Nagito, you…” You turn your head to see him watching you, and despite all that’s happened you still feel that rush of butterflies, exactly like the first time your eyes met all those weeks ago. “I can’t believe we just did that.” He’s smiling, pushing his hair back from his damp forehead. “Wow.”

   With embarrassment you notice what a mess you made of his shirt, and cringe, reaching for your underwear with some vague hope of maybe cleaning it up, but he stops you, pausing to swipe his thumb through the line of saliva that you hadn’t noticed drooling from the corner of your mouth. “It was that good?” he teases, passing your underwear to you and then collecting his own.

   “It was perfect,” you say without thinking, surprised by how dazed and dreamy you sound. Maybe it wasn't how you always imagined. Maybe there were no candles, and he didn't kiss you up against the door, and you had to relocate yourselves to the floor in the corner to save your dignity. Still you allow yourself to relax, the sensation of sated warmth creeping up on you. 

   He stands up, but your bones feel like jelly and your knees are sore, so you stay put. Gently you swirl your fingertips over where your skin is red from the friction of the wood planks, knowing you’ll bruise later. “Hinata-kun, thank you so much. Even though I didn’t deserve that kind of attention from you-” you can hear the emotion seeping into your words and it’s embarrassing, but you figure you’ve already hit your limit of self-consciousness for the day.

   “Hey, don’t,” he says quickly, kneeling down before you so your faces are level. His hair is mussed up and he looks so debauched, and you can’t believe it’s all because of you. “This was about more than that, right?” You stare at him, uncomprehending, and he swallows. “This was about more than getting me off, wasn’t it?”

   Unable to resist anymore, you lean forward and brush your lips feather-light against his, humming softly as you do so and hoping that counts as an answer. “You’re just so good to me.”

   He rolls his eyes in that dismissive way he always does. “Can you get up?”

   “I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, not because you’re in pain but because you’re so exhausted that all you want to do is crawl right over to the bed and pass out in it. He kisses you once more before helping you to your feet, holding you by the waist and appearing genuinely concerned when you pretend to swoon, a small smile pulling at the sides of your mouth. “You didn’t destroy me or anything, Hinata-kun, don’t worry.”

   “I know, I know,” he huffs, averting his eyes to the come still painted across your stomach. “It looks like you need a shower, anyway.”

   You mutter an agreement and head for the bathroom. He follows you in, and to your immense surprise, undresses right in front of you. You bite your lip, trying not to stare at his exposed torso (you have no idea why he was hiding it, and he stammers a thank you when you coyly tell him that), and then step under the spray, resting your forehead against the cool tiles and letting the warm water cascade over you.

   The steam makes you light-headed right away. For a moment, you feel like you’re alone, reflecting on everything that just happened. It still feels like some kind of bizarre fever dream, but at the same time the rawest, realest thing you’ve ever experienced.

   He helps clean you off, and you smile to yourself. “I’ve had fantasies about this,” you say, almost convinced he won’t hear you over the rush of water, but he laughs, close to your ear.

   “You have?” he says, thoughtfully running his soaped-up palms over your back, seemingly more comfortable with your shared nudity now that you aren’t looking at him. “Hmm.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close and smiling against your skin. “Maybe next time?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't have time to edit this properly and it's already a day late askgh. if there are any glaring issues i promise i'll get to them soon! 
> 
> and the second-person narrative won't be a permanent thing, but trust me when i say it looks better this way. ^^


	4. Exposure [4 - Masturbation]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s part of the reason he does this, after all.  
> Without the rush of fear, the thrills of self-loathing - what would be the point?
> 
> [cws: non-despair high school au, masturbation, exhibitionism, humiliation, kink-shaming]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may have gotten a little creative with this prompt.

   Hinata’s nerves are thrumming with electricity and he can’t believe he’s doing this.

   It’s dead silent in the recreation room, deserted as it should be at this hour. He pads across the floor, pulling his housecoat tighter around himself, ignoring the light switch as he passes it. Thickly, he swallows, keeping his head low so that he can feign sleepwalking if somebody happens to walk in on him. But everyone will be asleep by now, even the teachers. It’s just him and the darkness.

   He eases himself down into one of the chairs. His eyes fall closed, a wave of shame rolling over him as he gets himself comfortable, leaning back against the plush leather. There’s nothing wrong with this. He tells it to himself over and over again: he’s only sitting down, nothing incriminating, but the guilt doesn’t recede.

   In a way, he’s glad. That’s part of the reason he does this, after all. Without the rush of fear, the thrills of self-loathing - what would be the point?

   With a shaky sigh he lets his legs fall open, parting his thighs just so. There’s nothing wrong with this. People sit this way all the time. But, he reasons, most of the time these people aren’t naked beneath their robes, and the position generally doesn’t expose their already-stirring cock, reacting to nothing but the open air.

   Not that anyone is there to see it. His classmates are all asleep, far away, two stories down in the dormitories.  Tomorrow, when somebody sits in this very seat, perhaps reading a book or chatting with their friends, they’ll never know, won’t have any idea…

   Hinata bites down on his bottom lip to stifle as a groan as he wraps slack fingers around his growing erection, adjusting the fabric of his housecoat for better access. He moves his wrist slow, hesitant, glancing at the door every few seconds, heat already coiling low in his abdomen.

   He needs to be quiet. It’s so important that he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t draw attention to himself now. Warm skin throbs beneath his palm and there’s no going back.

   He's growing all too prickly-hot and he shrugs the housecoat off his shoulders completely, letting it pool on the seat behind him. The cold air hits him all at once, sending a shiver through his bones as he keeps touching himself, tilting his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes. The room fills up in his mind’s eye; uniformed students crowding in, talking amongst themselves, some gawking at him, some ignoring him completely. He takes in a shuddering breath, tightening the ring of his fingers and speeding up his movements.

   His free hand goes to his forehead, clutching at his hair for a moment while he tries to calm his breathing. It’s getting so loud, almost uncontrollable. To quiet himself he shoves two fingers frantically into his mouth, running his tongue over them, getting them slick with his saliva, all around and in between. It’s a disgusting thing to do. Laving his own skin with spit like some kind of animal, so desperate, shameless as a dog in heat.

    _Oh_.

   He _likes_ that. 

   He lets the phrase echo around and around in his head as he pulls his knees up, hooking his calves over the sides of the chair. _A dog in heat, a dog in heat_  - he presents himself to the darkness, wet fingers wandering down to circle his hole before one pushes inside, the sensation extracting a low whimper-groan from deep within his lungs.

   “That’s it,” he pants under his breath, sliding it out and then in, enjoying the tight, hot clutch of the muscle. He doesn’t do this every time, can’t always hold himself together for long enough, but god, when he _does –_ he writhes his hips down, trying to add a second finger before he’s really ready for it. It’s so much better like this. So much more perverse.

   “Oh, Hinata-kun.” The sympathetic voice comes from the doorway and his entire body seizes up. Reflexively he grabs at the base of his cock, squeezing hard to ward off the orgasm he knows will come if he doesn’t. He doesn’t open his eyes. He can’t. “Again? This is the second time this week. You must really have lost control of yourself.”

   Hinata’s entire body squirms, convulsing with the twin desires to close his legs, cover himself, but also his burning need to fight it, to stay open and on display. His breaths are coming ragged and he knows Komaeda can tell; his chest is bare, the rise and fall of it surely obvious. He lets his palm brush over his cock, from the base to the tip, feeling the wetness there. Even through the gloom, he’s sure it’s clearly visible, just like the rest of him.

   “That’s right,” Komaeda encourages him, his voice soft, but that won’t last long and Hinata knows it. “Don’t stop, let me watch you.”

   Hinata whines, his eyes snapping open. He’s surprised to find Komaeda draped over the chair opposite from him, arms folded over the back of it, not even two metres away. He must have been so caught up in his pleasure that he didn’t notice the other boy moving closer– hesitantly he begins to stroke himself again, scissoring his fingers inside himself, hoping Komaeda can see.

   “Oh, it’s so refreshing to see you like this, Hinata-kun, you have no idea.” His no-doubt wicked smile comes through in his words. “You always act so proper, like you deserve to be at this school – and yet here you are, defiling it. Fingering yourself like a-”

   He arches his back up, pushing his hips as close to the edge of the chair as he can. Komaeda walks around the chair, taking steps forward until he comes to rest standing between Hinata’s legs, spread wide enough that he can comfortably stand between them without touching the skin at all. “Don’t-”

   “Like a whore,” Komaeda finishes, the waver in his voice only barely detectable as he adjusts his tone, harsh to match the harsh words. His long fingers rake through Hinata’s hair, stroking for a moment before grabbing, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his eyes. “Right in the middle of the rec room. What are you?” he prompts, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

   “A dog in heat,” Hinata says, then cries out as he thrusts his fingers in up to the knuckle. “Just a- oh-!”

   He forces himself to keep watching Komaeda’s face, and for a moment the other boy’s eyes widen, his lips parting for a split-second before he composes himself and twists them back into that stern, calm expression that Hinata adores so much. “That was creative,” he comments, abruptly letting go of Hinata’s hair and allowing his head to fall back against the leather again. His fingertips ghost along Hinata’s jawline, tilting his chin up.

   They lock eye contact just as Hinata’s hips start to snap up of their own accord, his thighs quaking. He climaxes with a strangled moan, spilling over his hand and over his bare stomach, both hands working him through it. He needs to be quiet, but with his vision white and blurry with orgasm he doesn’t care. The whole school could walk in on him right now and he just wouldn’t care.

   “Clean yourself up and go back to bed,” Komaeda says shortly, the contact gone as soon as it’s over. Hinata half-expects the older boy to throw him a wipe or something, but he doesn’t, instead turning and stalking out of the room.

   Satisfied, Hinata drags his fingers through the mess on his stomach, knowing exactly what Komaeda expects of him. He remembers the first time they did this, Komaeda standing over him. _“If you expose yourself like a pervert then you can clean yourself like one, Hinata-kun.”_  He allows himself an indulgent smile, licking his come from his fingers with drawn-out drags of his tongue.

   He can’t see Komaeda, but he knows he’s lingering somewhere in the doorway, watching from the shadows. Or maybe he isn’t, and Hinata is just doing this for his own gratification. Either notion sends a shudder of disgust through him as he pulls his housecoat back on, the taste of himself still lingering in his mouth, and, on trembling legs, returns to bed alone.  

 


	5. Subservient [5 - Blow Job]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s all about you this time. About making you happy.” He trails fingers down Komaeda’s naked spine, where it protrudes so far from the smooth curve of his back. “That’s all I want. For you to be happy.”
> 
> [cws: post-game, mental instability, dubious consent maybe]

   He is subservient. On days like this, between Komaeda’s legs is his favourite place to be.

   Hinata can’t help it. He loves the way the older boy’s thighs feel, loves sliding his hands over the soft skin there, still so supple even though it only takes a little pressure before he can feel the sharp and sturdy bone beneath it. He loves Komaeda’s fingers carding through his hair, thumb brushing over his cheekbone when he’s doing well. Loves the nonsense that spills from his mouth, the mumbles of “not worthy of-” and “too good for someone like-” capped off with eventual cries of “Hajime- _please_!”

   The antiseptic smell of the hospital does nothing to dull this strange need he has, this need he never felt before he met the even stranger white-haired boy. The need that washes away all shame he might have once felt over being on the floor, kneeling between another boy’s legs. The need to pull those words from his mouth and please him. That’s all Hinata wants.

   And he so rarely gets to do this. The events of Komaeda being calm and in the mood and all-the-way-lucid almost never coincide. It’s like sampling the most special treat, and for ten or fifteen or twenty minutes he can feel like himself again, lost in enjoying Komaeda’s soft, familiar body. He drags his tongue up the underside of Komaeda’s cock, from the base to the tip, letting the taste overwhelm him.

   His technique is so far from his lover’s that he almost does it on purpose. He knows, from many samples, that Komaeda likes to be sloppy, to make a mess of himself, coating his own fingers with drool while he strokes over the part of Hinata that can’t fit in his mouth.

   Hinata is different; precise, almost. He flicks his tongue carefully over the head, pressing an affectionate kiss there before opening his mouth and taking it in, closing his eyes so he can focus. Komaeda yanks on his hair and he knows he’s done something wrong. He opens them again, cautious.

   “Look at me,” Komaeda says, and the desperation in his voice makes it clear that it’s a plea, not an order. Hinata complies right away, giving him the most seductive look he can muster from beneath his eyelashes, moaning lowly so Komaeda can have no doubt that he likes what he sees. The older boy is barely looking at him though; his eyes are glazed over, complexion fevered.

   Hinata slides the length further into his mouth until it bumps against the back of his throat, relishing the way Komaeda whines in response. He works his tongue over everything he can reach, mapping out the flesh in his memory, pride sparking through him whenever he elicits a particularly lewd noise. He can hear the vile sounds of himself, wet and animalistic.

   He moans again, just for the way Komaeda echoes it. Digging his nails into Komaeda’s thighs, he pulls off, trailing kisses up the side of his length. “Say something.”

   He can’t stop himself from asking. Komaeda has been talking more lately, sometimes even laughing and joking like he used to, but it’s at times like this when his voice really comes through.

   With his inhibitions lowered, pliant to Hinata’s requests, he speaks on demand.

   “L-like what?” Komaeda grips his hair, weakly trying to urge him back down, but he doesn’t yield, not yet.

   “Like how I’m making you feel,” Hinata suggests, jerking Komaeda off with loose strokes. He makes sure the friction isn’t enough to satisfy. The way his pale, bony hips chase his fist on the upstroke is proof that it’s working. “What you’re thinking about. Whether or not I’m going to let you come in my mouth.”

   Once, he would’ve been humiliated to talk like this, but under Komaeda’s gaze it seems acceptable. Powerful. He tightens his hold slightly, mouth quirking up at the corners at the breathy cry Komaeda lets out when he does that.

   “I- I wasn’t thinking about that.” His words come through gritted teeth. After a pause, he adds, “Are you?”

   The cautious, curious, _hopeful_ waver in his voice is all the incentive Hinata needs to dip his head back down, taking Komaeda’s cock into his mouth again, struggling to get as much as he can without gagging. The older boy’s hands flutter, not clutching anymore, just resting on the crown of his head as he works, trying to move and lick and provide suction all at the same time.

   It’s not long before Komaeda is bucking his hips and Hinata is forced to hold them down, the other boy squirming and writhing from his attentions. “Hinata, I’m -! Please-” he cuts himself off with a gasp, fading into incoherence. “Nn… don’t stop…”

   Hinata doesn’t, and it’s only a moment before Komaeda is crying out his name as he comes.  He swallows it down as best as he can, unable to help the excess that leaks from the corner of his mouth. He keeps working until he’s sure it’s over, before finally backing off, wiping at his chin so Komaeda won’t see the mess.

   “Oh…” Komaeda breathes, gracing Hinata with a small smile. He looks so inviting post-orgasm, lips full and red from the blood pumping double-speed through his veins, eyelids heavy with contentment, that Hinata can barely resist him. He climbs up on the bed, running his tongue over the roof of his own mouth and still tasting Komaeda there.

   “Thank you,” the white-haired boy says sincerely as Hinata settles down beside him, wrapping one arm around Komaeda’s thin waist, already leaning in to sweetly kiss his cheek. Komaeda doesn’t say anything more, but the way his hand gravitates to Hinata’s still-clothed crotch means he’s expecting to reciprocate.

   “Don’t,” Hinata says quickly, stilling Komaeda’s arm before he can move it any further. “It’s all about you this time. About making you happy.” He trails fingers down Komaeda’s naked spine, where it protrudes so far from the smooth curve of his back. “That’s all I want. For you to be happy.”


	6. Uniform [6 - Clothed Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata really likes Komaeda’s uniform. 
> 
> [cws: non-despair au, school uniform kink, grinding, semi-public sex, oral sex, hinata's exhibitionism kink being on vacation for this chapter apparently]

   Hinata doesn’t understand it. Every day he wades through corridors of people wearing the exact same uniform; he wears it, his friends wear it, and it’s nothing. 

   There’s just something about the crisp blazer fitted just-right to Komaeda trim waist, and the way the straight uniform trousers shape his legs that has him distracted all the time. It does something to him, knowing when that neat white collar is hiding love-bites.

   Komaeda’s uniform is usually flawless, carefully ironed and given a one-over with a lint roller every morning; Hinata can tell, and he likes that. But today, for whatever reason, Komaeda has the sleeves of his blazer rolled up to the elbow, and that just _triggers_ something in him. It’s criminal, how someone can make such a casual gesture into the most alluring thing in the universe.

   He can’t concentrate a moment longer, nothing but filthy thoughts running through his mind every time he chances a look at his boyfriend. His self control is slipping, he can feel it. He loves this school, but right at the moment he wishes a meteor would come along and obliterate it, destroy this oppressive regime but leave the uniforms intact.

   And it’s Hinata, and only Hinata, who gets to sneak his phone out of his pocket as Komaeda returns to his seat. _You’re so hot I can hardly stand it_ , he types, schooling his features into bored neutrality.

   Komaeda never texts in class. Hinata tries to cast sly looks his way, attempting to catch him tapping away at his phone under his desk. Eventually, when the teacher’s back is turned, he slides one pale hand into his pocked, fishing his phone out and reading the screen with raised eyebrows. A blush spreads steadily across his face, and he shifts in his seat, turning around to give Hinata an incredulous look and a mouthed, “Me?”

   At the end of class, when he watches the white-haired boy strain to put his textbook back the shelf, his shirt riding up and exposing the flat of his lower back and just the slightest hint of the band of his underwear, Hinata thinks he might actually have a heart attack and die right there at his desk.

   He packs his things with shaking hands, fumbling with his books and the zipper of his backpack. Komaeda hangs back in the doorway, looking for all the world like he’s just been blessed with witnessing the second coming of Christ, or something. Hinata feels the other boy’s stare on him as he struggles to get his things together, eventually slinging his bag over his shoulder and joining him in leaving the classroom.

   He lets Komaeda wander a few paces ahead of him, hoping he might have a chance to admire his boyfriend from the back. He knows Komaeda won’t mind the attention; he tends to do similar things when he happens to catch Hinata wearing his gym clothes, which isn’t often, thank god, or Hinata is sure the light-haired boy would be too busy ogling to ever get anything done.

   Komaeda catches on and laughs under his breath as he adjusts his gait, crossing one ankle in front of the other and swinging his hips like he’s on the catwalk, looking back over his shoulder to flash Hinata a smile. “You’re _staring_ , Hinata-kun. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

   “Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his eyes as he falls into step with Komaeda again. “I guess I’m just a little, uh-” he falters as something catches his eye, and he grabs Komaeda by the wrist and leans in close, hissing into his ear. “Pretend to tie your shoe for a second.”

   Komaeda blinks. “But my shoes don’t have any-”

   “Quickly!” Hinata urges, and Komaeda obeys, kneeling down and miming a complicated motion in the air where his shoelaces would be. Hinata tries to look exasperated, tapping his foot with impatience and leaning against the wall just to the left of the closet door as casually as he can. He’s no actor, but nobody is looking, so he’s sure he’s doing a good job. Eyes still trained on Komaeda, he reaches out with one hand and tries the handle on the door. To his surprise, it’s unlocked, but he doesn’t open it. Not yet.

   “Ah, I think I’m just about running out of laces to tie here,” the older boy pipes up just as the last of their class fades from the hallway, disappearing around a corner.

   “Okay, get up,” Hinata says under his breath, flinging the closet door open and urging Komaeda inside. As soon as they’re both within the space, which turns out to be a teaching supplies closet as far as Hinata can tell, he firmly closes the door behind them.

   “I see…” Komaeda joins him in looking around. Hinata is dismayed to find the closet doesn’t lock from the inside, but it’s good enough. “It’s really dark in here, you know, I’m not sure this is exactly allowed-”

   But Hinata couldn’t care less about what’s _allowed_ as he moves in close, finding Komaeda’s lips already slightly parted for him when he finds them. No questions asked, Komaeda responds to the kiss, laughing a little when Hinata breaks it to catch his breath.

   “What’s gotten into you today?” Komaeda asks, bemused as he steps forward until Hinata is edged right up against the door. He’s playing calm, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes, positively glowing under the attention.

   “You rolled your sleeves up,” Hinata explains breathlessly.

   Without warning Komaeda wraps both sets of fingers around Hinata’s left wrist, before pulling the top hand up, pushing the fabric of Hinata’s blazer until it bunches up around his elbows. Ignoring the huff Hinata lets out, he does the same to the other one, and then steps back to admire his handiwork.

   “Not the same,” Hinata tells him, pulling him back in for a kiss. “It’s only when it’s you. It looks so good on you- fuck-” he stumbles over his words, taken aback by the sudden burst of pleasure as Komaeda rolls his hips forward, grinding against him from where he’s pinned against the door. “I can’t stop thinking about it every time I see you.”

   It’s amazing, how he can feel Komaeda’s heat even through several layers of clothing; feel the other boy growing hard, can swear the darkening of his eyes is due to lust and not just the lighting. “Like when you did that presentation today? I think everybody was checking you out.” Komaeda makes a sound of modest protest, almost laughing it off.

   Hinata just keeps talking, oblivious. He’s opened up the floodgates and now there’s no going back.

   “You just looked so _fucking_ sexy,” he continues, and he can’t believe he just said the word ‘sexy’ but Komaeda seems to like it, keening for more praise, “that I had to tell you right away how hot you were making me. How distracting you are.” He softens his tone, touch dancing over the silken knot of Komaeda’s tie. “How lucky I am to be the one who gets to touch you like this.”

  Komaeda opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by the bell, signalling that the time between classes is over and that they’re now late. His eyes flicker to the upper left, taking in the sound before he carefully detaches himself, ducking out from where Hinata is holding him against the door. “Umm,” he laughs weakly, twisting the doorknob, but not pushing it open yet. “I’ll see you after?”

   “Wait, no,” Hinata whines, resisting the urge to clutch at the other boy, instead letting his arms hang limply by his sides. “You can’t be serious.” He glances down, dismayed to find that his arousal is obvious, at least from this angle. “I can’t go back to class like this.”

   “Are you saying you want to _skip class_ , Hinata-kun?” Komaeda hisses, rounding on him, more scandalized than angry. “I can’t believe you would even have the gall to suggest that! Do you really think it’s acceptable to jeopardize the education of the students of Hope’s Peak Academy, the entire _future_ of _Japan_? All because of your- your-”he gestures vaguely towards Hinata’s crotch, brows furrowed as though the notion of not wanting to go to class with an erection is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

   Hinata raises his eyebrows. The noise of people passing by has dimmed by now, and he’s sure the corridor must be completely deserted. He keeps his voice hushed anyway. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

   He considers, toying with the collar of his shirt. “Do you really like it that much?”

   Hinata’s throat is dry. “Yeah.”

   “Well then.” His fingers slip from the door handle. “Perhaps we could make an exception, just this one time?” Hinata can barely see his face, just the outline of his hair against the blackness, but he’s sure he’s trying his hardest to look serious. His voice has that strained, wavery quality; it sounds like he is. “But if anyone asks why we’re late, I’m going to have to blame you, Hinata-kun.”

   Hinata pulls him close by the tie, careful not to yank hard enough to tighten it. “I think I can deal with that.”

   The banter ends when their lips meet hesitantly in the darkness, and the older boy sighs happily against his skin. He guides Hinata backwards away from the door and he finds himself pressed up against a shelf, the spines of hundreds of books digging into his back. Komaeda is leading; dominating the kiss, teasing Hinata with his tongue. And he doesn’t have the right to be so good at this.

   “Oh!” Hinata tries not to yelp as he presses in harder, trapping one thigh between the younger boy’s legs, right up against the bulge that’s straining his trousers. He can feel Komaeda’s hardness against his own hip as he kisses messily over the side of his face, down his jaw to his neck. He sucks a bruise into the skin there, licking wetly over the burst capillaries until Komaeda finally shudders enough to involuntarily move himself against him, eliciting a surprised gasp from both of them. Every breath seems to echo around the cramped space, and in the darkness, Hinata hears it all so much more.

   Komaeda ruts particularly hard against him and the bookcase rattles. The friction of fabric against Hinata’s cock is starting to feel better than he ever imagined; he shudders at the way it clings to the head of his cock where the pre-come has already soaked through. From the breathy, needy, frantic sounds of it, Komaeda is in a similar state.

   He moves to kiss Hinata again, his mouth stilling with every other rock of his hips. They’re sharing the same air; Hinata drinks in all Komaeda’s stutters and moans, not caring to restrain his voice anymore. This closet probably has thicker walls than his bedroom anyway.

   Hinata lets his hands wander, taking his time tracing his lover’s shoulder blades over the smooth cotton of his blazer, exploring the stiff fabric underneath, thin enough that he can feel the outline of a protruding ribcage, the steady working of barely-there muscles and the way he’s pulsing with shallow breaths.  

   It’s like fog descending over him, thicker with every little bit of friction, and just like that he knows he’s going to come like this – still dressed, with his equally-clothed boyfriend grinding on him like some kind of awkward high school stereotype. Except this is the opposite of awkward. Physically it’s not as intense as bare flesh on flesh, but that _excites_ him, the pleasure doesn’t come easy and they both have to work, movements becoming fluid as they eventually find a rhythm.

   The older boy seems to be coming undone the quickest, and sure enough Komaeda comes first, suddenly clutching Hinata’s shoulders and digging his nails in, burying his face in his neck as he rides out his release with stuttering jolts of his body against Hinata’s. Hinata grabs his ass, pulling him forcefully against him so that he can grind harder against Komaeda’s thigh, drawing a small moan from his kiss-swollen lips.

   Komaeda draws back when he’s spent, a little shaky on his feet. “Oh dear, Hinata-kun, don’t do _that_ ,” he says with a grimace, bowing his head. “Ugh, it feels… unpleasant.”

   Hinata can only stare at him for a moment before curiosity flashes across his face and then he comes to a decision, dropping to his knees, popping the button on Hinata’s trousers and unzipping them with practised flicks of his wrist. His voice is hushed low when he says, “So let me take care of this?”

   All Hinata can do is grab the shelf behind him for balance and cry out as Komaeda takes his cock out of his underwear and straight into the wet heat of his mouth.

   It doesn’t last long. He spends a few moments watching, feeling the pressure build quickly and then it breaks and he’s lost in euphoria, trying his hardest to give a warning but only managing a weak “Komaeda, I-!” and an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper.

   He seems to get the message though, swallowing him down and then oh-so-reverently licking him clean until oversensitivity sets in and Hinata has to push him away by the forehead, legs trembling, struggling to hold him up after his ordeal.

   “Well.” He gets to his feet again, looking down at his crotch where the wetness is already beginning to seep through. “I suppose this makes me the one who can’t go back to class now.”

   “Yeah, you should probably… brush your teeth,” Hinata says gently, brushing his thumb over the corner of his mouth. “No offense.”

   “None taken. Thank you, though,” he adds with a small smile. “This was, um, adventurous. And,” he ponders it for moment, searching for a word before he settles on, “erotic.”

   “Oh, well I’m glad it was erotic.” Hinata rolls his eyes, then blinks when Komaeda kisses him one last time before opening the door. The light spills in with unexpected harshness, and as it falls over Komaeda he finds himself lost for words at the sight of him. He’s rumpled all over, his hair somehow in more disarray than usual, his clothes lined with creases and that one telltale stain that fills Hinata with so much second-hand embarrassment that he can hardly cope.

   “You look amazing right now,” he says, trailing behind Komaeda as they hurry down an empty flight of stairs to the dormitories. It’s true, but at the same time, he’s immensely glad that he came out the cleaner of the two. “And hey, if you’re worried about missing class, maybe I could give you a tutoring session to make up for it?” He leans against the wall as Komaeda fumbles in his pocket for his ID, and then swipes it through the lock on his door, shooting Hinata an amused look as he does so. “Privately, of course.”

   He leads Hinata inside, closing the door firmly behind them. “You missed the class too, Hinata-kun,” he points out, bopping him on the nose with his index finger, and the gesture is so ridiculous that he can’t help laughing a little. “But even so… I might have to take you up on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably not what the creator of this challenge meant by 'clothed sex' but OH WELL. does anyone know what "dressed/naked (half dressed)" means, incidentally? is it that one is naked and the other is clothed, or are they both supposed to be half dressed? it's a little vague.  
> also, i'm sorry this chapter is a day late! the next chapter will also probably be a day late. hopefully i'll catch up before the 30 days are out.


	7. Pet [7 - Half-Dressed]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [cws: non-despair au, petplay, collars, drabble]

   This was what always got him: the room looked the same. It felt the same – a little colder, maybe, but the tone was just as relaxed as ever, the whole apartment still scented by the apple-cinnamon candles Komaeda kept lit most of the time. In this position, he got the feeling that the world had continued turning in all its mundanity but he – and only he – had changed. He alone had given up on the pretence of dignity.

   The television droned on to one side of him. Komaeda was still watching it intently, a detective show Hinata didn’t know or care about. He lay with his arms folded beneath his head on the armrest, legs stretched all the way to the other side of the couch, knees only bent so that he fit the curve of Komaeda’s body unobtrusively. 

   Cold fingers would stoke his hair occasionally, or down the ridge of his spine. He had been instructed to be still and silent, but he couldn’t help the involuntary, happy sounds that rose from his throat at the feeling. Still, he tried his hardest to obey. With the leather heavy around his neck, it was hard to imagine doing anything else.

   He supposed this was just how things went in a relationship; the couple life, where sometimes you found yourselves arguing over cookie brands in the middle of a grocery store and other times you ended up sprawled across your partner’s lap, wearing nothing but a dog collar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, can you believe it's only been 7 days since i started this challenge? feels like it's been at least a month and a half. 
> 
> i may come back and expand this one at some point but for now, it's a drabble. because this prompt was more difficult than i anticipated. ^^


	8. Nymphomaniac [8 - Skype Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [cws: non-despair au, exhibitionism, toys, public masturbation, degradation kink, komaeda being weird]

   It sounds like Komaeda’s room has been infested by bees or something, although by the boy on the screen’s calm demeanour, he’s sure that’s not actually the case.

   “What is that?” He realises too late that he’s spoken aloud. His eyes dart around the library, but nobody is even looking at him. Someone a few tables away appears to be asleep with her head buried in a textbook. Another person is on one of the computers, headphones on, working away.

   “Nothing important,” Komaeda says innocently, shooting the camera a small smile before Hinata hears him typing again.

   But the noise persists. Hinata ignores it, bringing up his assignment document again and thumbing through his textbook.

   “Ooh!” Komaeda gasps, and then giggles, the camera shaking a little, catching Hinata’s attention. The low-resolution, awkwardly-lit version of Komaeda’s face on the screen looks composed but flushed. And just like that something clicks and he knows the hum is not from bees.

 _Seriously, what are you doing_? he types the words in a flurry, already cringing inwardly at the way he’s reacting, cock stirring with interest just from the images flashing through his brain.

   “Sorry, Hinata-kun, I just-” he pauses, his lips parting a little and the camera shifts again, jerking as he presumably moves his hips, “I couldn’t help myself. I got- a new toy today, and you were busy- it seemed silly not to test it out while I had you with me, don’t you think?”

   His words are punctuated by tiny gasps, and Hinata can only stare, dumbfounded.

   “I know it’s disgusting, that someone as low and pathetic as me can’t even have a conversation with you without needing to get off- oh- I’m not even fit for human interaction, I belong in a landfill, I-”

   “Komaeda, shut up,” Hinata interrupts, half because it pains him to hear Komaeda talk that way about himself and have because the words are having an obvious effect on the older boy, his flush deepening and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and that’s frightening at best.

   One of the other patrons turns to glare at him this time, so he switches to typing. At least this way he can pretend not to be so nervous. He dithers for what feels like years, erasing several attempted messages before he finally settles on, _Show me._

   Komaeda freezes for several long seconds before he lets out a shaky breath. From the movement of the camera it’s clear that he’s picking up his laptop, settling it instead at the bottom of the bed. Hinata barely has a moment to register Komaeda’s nudity below the waist before the older boy is opening his legs, digging his heels into the mattress, thighs wide apart.

   And Hinata can see _everything_.

   He can see Komaeda’s rather obvious arousal, his cock swollen and full and resting on his stomach. He can see Komaeda’s chest working, and his face, gazing straight at the camera with dark eyes and a lusty, knowing smile.

   But more than anything, his gaze is pulled to Komaeda’s ass, which is currently full of pink silicone. Hinata can’t see it moving but he can hear it clearly now, the impatient buzz of the vibrator and the way Komaeda’s entire body seems to be trembling with it. It was obscene; his hole red and slick with lube, stretched around the thick shaft of the toy, taking it all except the wider part at the base where the controls are.

   And Hinata’s throat constricts with the knowledge that Komaeda won’t be able to see his computer screen anymore. He’s going to have to talk.

   His heart is beating so fast it’s threatening to burst right through his ribcage. It’s turning him on in the worst way; his jeans already feel unpleasantly tight, and his cock stiffens even more when Komaeda reaches down with one hand and grasps the base, pulling out and then pushing back in with a little cry.

   Hinata leans in close to the microphone, keeps his voice low. “You were really going to get off like that without even telling me?”

   “Mmhm.” Komaeda keeps fucking himself with the toy, deliberately keeping his hand to the side, trying not to obscure the view. “What do you think?” he prompts. “What does that make me?”

   “Um, devious?” Hinata attempts.

   Komaeda makes an impatient little keen in the back of his throat. “What else?”

   “Disgusting.” He’s recycling Komaeda’s words, trying to ignore the guilt already scorching at his insides. He slumps down in his chair, re-angling the laptop screen before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, his heartbeat in his ears, praying nobody can hear him. His voice is little more than a whisper now. “Pathetic. Desperate.” He swallows. “Greedy. A nymphomaniac.”

   All the words earn him a pleased moan except the last, which has Komaeda thrusting the toy into himself in time with little bursts of laughter. His eyes are closed now, an expression of bliss on his face as he says, “You’re so bad at this.”

   He’s hidden by the table, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to notice what he’s doing, or to sneak up behind him and see the filthy display on his laptop screen. It’s too late to move now, though. With one trembling hand he reaches down, wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and strokes up, shaking with the effort not to make a sound.

   His gaze darts around the room, but nobody is watching him. He rests his other elbow in the table, cradling his head in his hand, attempting to look nonchalant and hide the way his face is growing hot. That familiar mix of embarrassment and arousal and shame – pure shame that turns his stomach, but never enough to make him stop.

   Shame that Komaeda never seems to feel.

   He swallows back a moan. Surely he would never do these things without Komaeda. That boy is just the worst influence.

   “Y-you’re touching yourself.” Hinata opens his eyes from when they’d fallen closed at some point, surprised to find Komaeda looking back at him, propped up on one elbow. His cock looks unpleasantly swollen now. He must be close.

   Hinata hunches his entire body forward, hand still working underneath the table. He can’t last long, not like this – not with the crude display of Komaeda’s body only inches away from him, with the stark emptiness of the library around him. It must be quiet but he doesn’t know, with his headphones on. That constant buzzing, Komaeda’s breathing, the wet sound of the vibrator being pushed in and out.

   For all he knows, the others could be listening to him, the whimpers he tries to hold back but he has no way to tell if he’s succeeding-

   His orgasm surges through him without warning, and he really can’t help pulling in a sharp, quick gasp. Too late he tries to close his fist around the head of his cock, but the mess has already been made and all he can do is shudder through it, too blissed out to care.

   When the fog of pleasure clears, he glances up, expecting to see Komaeda in a similar state. But the older boy is still hard, still watching him intently. “I can’t believe you just did that.” 

   “Neither can I,” Hinata says lowly. Not knowing what else to do, he wipes his hand off on the bare skin beneath his shirt, grimacing as he does. There’s nothing he can do about the carpet, though.. “You didn’t, uh…?” He looks around, but just like before, nobody is paying him any attention.

   “No,” Komaeda says simply, and Hinata can only watch helplessly as he pushes the vibrator in hard, apparently catching himself by surprise. He arches his back, letting out a little “ _mmm_ ” sound. He blinks hard, focusing on the screen again. “I’ll be waiting when you get home,” he says with a smile, shifting his legs somehow even wider. “See you soon, Hinata-kun.”

 


	9. Audience I [9 - Against The Wall]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata gets his hands on a camera. Komaeda indulges him.
> 
> cws: non-despair au, exhibitionism (are you surprised), dirty talk?, handies, tiny smidge of kink negotiation

 

   It happens because the lighting is perfect, and that's all the excuse Hinata needs to pull his camera out from underneath the bed and start fiddling with the lens before Komaeda can do anything but laugh.

  
*

 

   They talk about it first. The day Hinata comes back from his first photography class, he's twitchy, and Komaeda notices it as he sets the table for dinner, watching the younger boy out of the corner of his eye. Hinata sits hunched over on the couch, experimentally pressing buttons and turning the chunky camera over and over again in his hands. Loaned to him from the school, it must be expensive. High quality.

   It's been long enough now that Komaeda can follow his boyfriend's train of thought easily. He knows what Hinata likes, knows it well. He knows, without a doubt, that Hinata isn't sitting there daydreaming about taking pictures of sunsets, or trees against a blue sky.

 

   "Just ask." 

   Hinata jumps like he's been shocked. They're sprawled out on the couch, Hinata on his back with his head on Komaeda's lap while they watch TV, and all at once he sits up, turning back to sit up on his knees and fix Komaeda with a puzzled look. "What?"

  Komaeda raises his eyebrows. He hasn't missed the way Hinata keeps eyeing the camera, which is on the coffee table now, looking like he's so deep in thought. "If there's something on your mind, just ask." Hinata's face flushes, obviously aware that Komaeda knows what he's thinking about. But he says nothing, so Komaeda decides to prompt him a little more. "With the camera?"

  Hinata's eyes dart to the object as if he's somehow surprised that Komaeda noticed its presence - or, maybe, its significance. "What?" he says, then swallows. "Really?"

   "Really. You've been thinking about it, right?"

   Hinata looks like the breath has been knocked out of him. "Just- I mean, I didn't think you'd want to do anything like I had in mind."

   "So you had things in mind," Komaeda teases, shifting closer to Hinata on the couch. "Like what?"

  
*

 

   So the lighting is perfect. It's sunset, and with the curtains open the room is thrown into shades of red and pink and orange. Viewing from opposite the window, everything is a silhouette. Komaeda is no professional, but he's pretty sure it'll be beautiful. Maybe even classy.

   Classy seems like a good place to start.     

   He sits on the bed and waits while Hinata sets the camera up right in front of the door. They don't experiment with positions a lot anymore, now that Komaeda is so easily tired out. He feels bad about it, of course, but Hinata always reassures him that it's fine. That his comfort is the most important thing. But he isn't blind to the fact that the only empty space between the camera and the light source is an empty stretch of wall.

   "Ready?" Hinata asks, and Komaeda gets to his feet, waiting for some sort of instruction. This is Hinata's fantasy, after all.   

   With his hands on the older boy's forearms, Hinata gently positions him with his back against the wall, tells him in a soft voice to strip off to just his underwear, so they don't have to fumble with their clothes while standing up. 

   While he does, Hinata puts himself behind the camera again, messing with the angle and the zoom until he gets it right. The sun outside the window is so bright that he has to squint when he looks up at Komaeda again, tentative. "I'm going to start recording now. If you want to stop-"   

   "I'll tell you." Komaeda gives him his best encouraging smile, something tightening in his chest as Hinata hits record and hesitantly steps into frame. He was in the shadows before, but in the new lighting Komaeda can see just how red he is, embarrassed already. But his fingers don't twitch with the urge to cover himself, and the hitch in his breath is from excitement, not fear, as he approaches Komaeda and leans in to oh-so-lightly brush their lips together.

   Komaeda relaxes into it, lets Hinata take the reins while he focuses only on the slide of their lips, the faint taste of sweet tea that's so familiar as Hinata licks hesitantly against the seam of his lips, and Komaeda doesn't waste a moment before he parts them, letting the kiss deepen. He allows his hands to wander until one of them is tangled in Hinata's hair, the other on his naked hip, thumb stroking over his pelvic bone. Hinata's leaning into him, pinning him, taking up all of his space and his vision.

   It doesn't take a lot to make Komaeda breathless. Already, his knees are growing weak, and he's leaning back against the wall for support.

   He pulls back just enough to mumble against Hinata's mouth, barely audible. "Do you like this? Does it feel like someone's watching us?"

   The weak whimpering sound Hinata makes in response is as much of an affirmative as Komaeda's going to get. "How does it feel knowing I can play this back whenever I want, hm? Watch you getting all turned on for your," he moves the hand on Hinata's hip so it's between then, palm kneading over the hardness straining against the younger boy's boxers, "audience, whenever I want?"

   "Audience?"

   "That's right." Komaeda pauses to push Hinata's underwear down his thighs, giving him better access so that he can take Hinata's shaft into his hand at a less awkward angle, giving it a few strokes and loving the way his shoulders shake with a repressed groan. "Wouldn't you like that?"   

   Hinata closes his eyes like he's thinking about it, letting Komaeda touch him, press their nearly-naked bodies together and kiss his neck without protest. "Yeah," he says, faintly. "More."

   Komaeda sucks lightly on the tender skin, letting his mind wander. Sometimes, he wishes Hinata would appreciate how damn hard it is to come up with dirty talk on the spot, to spout off fantasies that aren't even your own.

   As soon as the idea pops into his head, he feels guilty. This could well go beyond their boundaries; with Hinata, it's hard to know when to stop, when exactly things become too much. It's a rare occurrence. In the heat of the moment, he seems to be turned on by just about everything.

   Komaeda takes a deep breath, softens his tone before starting his new tangent, just in case. "Who knows who could watch this? What if it... leaked? Got on the internet?"

   The slow rock of Hinata's hips stills suddenly, and Komaeda winces to himself. But then he, too, takes in a shuddering breath and asks, "What if it did?"

   The moment their eyes meet, Komaeda knows this is alright path to tread. Hinata's hazel eyes are clouded with a mix of lust and desperation, and he's still definitely hard, cock occasionally twitching in Komaeda's hand. He starts up his ministrations again, trying to at least plan the words out in his head before he says them.

   "You'd end up on an illicit website somewhere, for people to- to touch themselves to."

   Hinata laughs a little under his breath at Komaeda's phrasing, but then gasps when Komaeda twists his hand on the up stroke, bringing him back to the moment. "Watching me?"

   "Mhm, watching you. They'd just lap it up, Hinata-kun, you look so good like this."

   Of course, he would never actually put the footage online, but the look on Hinata's face is incredible. It's like Komaeda can actually see the gears turning in his head as he imagines it. "Think about watching the hit counter go up and knowing all those people had gotten themselves off looking at you, and there's nothing you can do about it."

   Hinata buries his face in Komaeda's shoulder, arching his back and mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like "Ohmygod."

   "You'd never know who'd seen it." His mouth is running without any input from his brain at this point. All he can focus on now is keeping his tone even, making sure the camera's microphone is picking up every word he says. "For all you know it could be your classmates, your friends, and every single time they talked to you they'd be thinking about you like this, but you'd never know."

   Komaeda takes himself by surprise with that, but Hinata doesn't seem to care. He turns his head, eyeing the camera, the recording light still flashing red. " _Oh_ \- please don't stop." Need is bleeding into his words, and it sends satisfaction curling through Komaeda to hear it. "This is- I'm-"

   "It would be- so- hot-" Komaeda gives a slow, deliberate stroke with every word. "But... I know who'd like it the most, who would really, really love to see you getting off on being degraded like this." Hinata whines in response, begging for the answer, and Komaeda speeds his movements up, leaning in close to lick the shell of his ear before he says, "You, Hinata-kun."

   Hinata comes with an incomprehensible cry, his hips stuttering with it, and Komaeda can't hold back a little smile as he strokes him through the shudders and gasps until it's over, and the fluid is all over his hand and stomach but he doesn't care, just lets Hinata hold him and make a mess of them both, lets him recover.

   "You're so good," Hinata says when he pulls himself together, his breathing uneven and his face still flushed. "God. How can you talk like that?"

   All business now, Hinata brushes his fingers over the flat expanse of Komaeda's stomach, and he tilted his head back, tensing up with anticipation as Hinata's touch wanders beneath the waistband of his underwear. He smiles to himself. "Because I know how much you like it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'against the wall' more like 'i filled this prompt twice already and i didn't feel like writing penetrative sex so i did whatever and they're just kind of near a wall'. i tried, but not really.
> 
> also like the entire rest of these fics have been running on the baseless headcanon that hope's peak is a boarding school, however, this one is not. just in case you were confused about that.


	10. Audience II [10 - Doggy Style]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata gets his hands on a camera. Komaeda indulges him.
> 
> cws: non despair au, exhibitionism, voyeurism(?!?!?!), ko topping, unsafe sex

   "C'mon, Komaeda. I'm ready."

   Komaeda keeps at it, working slick fingers in and out of Hinata's hole, scissoring them, stretching him. "Not yet."

   They're positioned on the bed with Hinata on his elbows and knees, the laptop on a chair on front of him. The video is paused; too short to leave on through foreplay unless they want to loop it, and that's definitely not what they want. Komaeda smiles to himself remembering the way Hinata explained to him, flustered and embarrassed, but in no uncertain terms, that he wanted to have Komaeda inside him the first time he watched this. 

   "It doesn't matter if it hurts," Hinata says. "I just want to do this _now_."

   "It does matter!" Komaeda smacks him lightly, playfully, on the ass, and Hinata makes a weak sound of protest. "It's still going to be there in a minute, geez."

   He keeps at it for another few minutes, deliberately nudging Hinata's prostate every other stroke to keep him on his toes, not wanting it to be too good too soon. The last thing he wants is to rush this.

   Hinata gasps a little at the stimulation, but it's not long before his patience wanes again. "I hate doing this."

   Komaeda thinks about another swat, but settles on rolling his eyes. "Thanks."

   "You know what I mean." Hinata rocks his hips back. "I just want your cock, you know?"

   "Oh, really?" Komaeda muses under his breath. He knows it wouldn't take so damn long to get Hinata ready if they just did this more often, but it's rare. A special occasion.

   Hinata turns as much as he can to face him, looking back over his shoulder with his expression somewhere between earnest and unamused. "You have no idea."

   "Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer, then," Komaeda says, and Hinata tenses with anticipation as he eases his fingers out, shifting his attention to his own cock. It's softened a little since his focus has been elsewhere, but it doesn't take more than a few strokes to get himself hard and slick and ready, biting down on his bottom lip as does so.

   "Come onnnn," Hinata whines, and that's all the invitation Komaeda needs to line himself up, one hand on Hinata's waist to keep him steady.

   "I was going to kiss you first," he says airily, pressing his hips oh so slightly forward and taking in the way Hinata gasps again in response before immediately pushing back on it, at the same time scrabbling to hit the space-bar on the laptop's keyboard, finally starting the video.

   Hinata rocks his hips back again, taking in a little more. Slow. "You can kiss me later."

   It feels amazing, as always; Komaeda is sure that he'll never get used to this, even if they did it a hundred times a day, that tight hot grip would never stop making his head spin, his breath catching with every inch of him that slips inside.

   He has a damn good view from where he is; the real, flesh and blood view of Hinata's body; the lean muscle of his back, and that amazing ass of his, stretching to accommodate his length. But at the same time, he can see the figures on the laptop screen, bodies pressed flush together in a room full of orange light. He can see every press of their lips, every rise and fall of their chests, the video's quality is so high.

   Hinata has already pushed all the way back, buried Komaeda completely to the hilt before the first words come from the speakers.

_"...Do you like this? Does it feel like someone's watching us?"_

   He tries to focus on the video while Hinata adjusts. He doesn't focus on himself, instead wonders Hinata is appreciating how well the film captured the perfect contours of his own body, the flex of his muscles. It sounds strange for Komaeda to hear his own voice back like that. He almost wants to laugh at how silly it sounds, in hindsight, but the last thing Hinata is doing is laughing.

   It sounds more like he's _keening_.

   "Come on, move, fuck me," he says in a rush. Komaeda obeys quickly, pulling out a little and back in again, trying to find a rhythm that's gentle to start with, testing the waters.  He tightens his grip on Hinata's waist, feeling sparks of pleasure shoot up and down his spine with the friction. 

   Hinata lets out a satisfied little moan, and although he can't see him doing it, Komaeda knows he's watching the screen avidly. He watches, too; watches the recorded version of himself kissing Hinata's neck, catching the look of bliss on the younger boy's face that he hadn't been able to see the first time around. He speeds up his thrusts, unable to choke back the noises that escape his own throat, and Hinata echoes them. The sound of skin on skin seems to be amplified tenfold with the way Hinata is meeting him so forcefully.

   But at the same time, he can hear the audio from the recording as well, the twin groans of Hinata in the present and in the video almost more than he can cope with. It always makes him giddy, the knowledge that he can make his boyfriend sound like  _that._ Hearing it from two sources is surreal. 

   "Is this good?" Komaeda asks after a moment, surprised by how strained his voice has already become. With every slide in, the pleasure coils tighter, and his mind clouds with it.

   " _God_ yes, yeah," Hinata replies without missing a beat, and if Komaeda sounded strained then Hinata is truly wrecked. "Just don't want to talk over the- _oh_."

   Every time there's a particularly lewd piece of dialogue, Hinata lets out a broken little noise and fucks back harder until Komaeda barely has to move at all. He watches, stunned, as Hinata grows more and more worked up, his desperate whimpers coming louder and louder, his hand working himself more frantically until Komaeda feels the muscles clench around his cock and he comes, spilling onto the bedsheets with a choked " _oh my god I'm coming oh my god_ -".

   That mantra is Komaeda's favourite sound and it doesn't take much more to push him over the edge as well. Hinata doesn't even flinch when Komaeda pulls out. He marvels at the way Hinata's hole clenches around nothing, as though begging to be filled again; It's obscene and sends a jolt of heat through him as he jerks himself off, pulling every trick he knows to get himself off quick.

   One, two, three strokes and Komaeda is coming too, muscles tensing, pressing his fingers into Hinata's skin hard where he's still holding onto his waist with his free hand, tilting his head back with the bliss of it at the same time as Hinata in the video cries out with his own orgasm.

_"You're so good. God, how can you talk like that?"_

   Komaeda breathes shallow, opening his eyes to find Hinata's lower back splattered with his come. It's a pretty amazing sight. He can't tear his eyes away, even when Hinata lets out a heavy, contented sigh and and slumps forward onto the bed. "Oh wow."

   With a small smile Komaeda leans over him to fumble with the objects on the bedside table, retrieving the camera, already switched on and set up for this exact purpose. "Hold still for a second?"

   He does it quickly; takes snap and after snap of Hinata's come-painted back. Hinata keeps his legs apart, making sure Komaeda can get the whole picture; he's so debauched, his skin still flushed all over and covered in a light sheen from the exertion, his hole so obviously freshly-fucked. With a click, Komaeda captures it all.

   "I'm keeping these," he jokes, putting the camera down on the clean part of the bed and lightly tapping Hinata's side, so he knows he can move now. "We should frame them and put them in the trophy cabinet: Super High School Level Kinkster."

   Hinata laughs as he finally rolls over, sitting up on his knees and leaning in for a light kiss. He's a mess, his stomach and back both tacky, his lips still full and kiss-bitten from earlier. "More like 'Super High School Level Spoiled'."


	11. Good [11 - Dom/sub I]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cws: non-despair au, dom/sub (dom!hinata), exhibitionism, bondage, toys, oral, comeplay sort of, and again for emphasis, BONDAGE. komaeda in bondage. turn back now if you hate komaeda in bondage i really

   "Listen to me." Hinata says the words soft but deliberate, making sure he has Komaeda's full attention before continuing. The white-haired boy's hips are still twitching, lifting off the bed with every other hitch of his breath. His eyes are covered with one of Hinata's ties, the makeshift blindfold making it hard to see where he's focusing at the moment. "You're going to lie still and be quiet. If you come - and I think you will - you aren't allowed to clean it up." He traces the cuffs around Komaeda's wrists, above his head, binding him to the bedframe. "Obviously."

   "Every time someone asks me what that noise is, I'm going to come in here and up the speed setting. This vibrator has four speed settings," he adds, arbitrarily, because Komaeda knows. It belongs to him. "If it gets to the highest speed and you're still making noise, I'm going to have no choice but to show them what's disturbing us."

   Komaeda responds only with an involuntary whimper and an arch of his back.

   "So be good for me." He bites back adding an 'okay?' to the end of his sentence. He isn't requesting. Instead, he says, "Understand?"

   The doorbell rings just as Komaeda jerkily nods his assent. Hinata doesn't blame him. Even on the lowest speed setting, the toy he picked for this is intense, fresh batteries and all. He smiles and leaves the room, closing the door carefully behind him. Even from the hallway, there's no sound. Yet.

   It's not a big occasion, just a movie night with a few friends who Hinata is pretty sure won't react too badly if they find out that he's passively involving them in something like this. They arrive one at a time; Souda, Kuzuryuu and Owari, and Hinata lets his voice be a little loud when he greets them, making sure Komaeda can hear it.

   They decide to order pizza, and when it comes, Hinata is in the kitchenette, hands full of drinks from the fridge. "Don't worry about it, man, I'll get it," Souda says, and Hinata hears the sofa creak. His breath catches in his throat. But he doesn't say no.

   Stiffly, he hands out the drinks, hearing the muffled conversation at the front door. Souda returns looking perplexed, and Hinata's heart leaps. He busies himself helping arrange the pizza boxes on the coffee table, then watches the pink-haired boy's face as he settles back into his seat, looking around at the walls like they hold some deep secret. "Something wrong?" Hinata prompts, sitting back down himself.

   "Nah, nah," Souda shakes his head. "Just thought I heard somethin' while I was in the hall. Your neighbours have a dog, right?"

   "A dog?" Hinata asks, mock-curious, widening his eyes.

   "I thought I heard it, like, whining. Thought it was the pipes at first, but..." he trails off with a shrug.

   "I'm pretty sure nobody in this building has a dog. You must have imagined it." Hinata shrugs it off, settling back in his seat. The restlessness washes over him immediately. He taps his foot, fidgets, doesn't touch the food, counting down from one hundred and eighty.

   "I'll be back in a sec."

   They don't even look away from the television when he gets up.

   It's hard to look nonchalant while crosses the room, trying his very hardest not to hurry down the hallway. He very, very quietly opens the bedroom door and steps inside, closing it firmly behind him before any sound leaks out.

   Hinata lets out a shaky breath, his skin prickling with heat.

   Komaeda is already a mess, limbs loose and splayed, his stomach streaked with his first orgasm of the evening. He's not whining anymore, only breathing heavily, turning his head from side to side and Hinata can't help a sharp inhale when he notices the telltale damp spot on the pillow where he must have been drooling.

   "Fuck," he says, under his breath, approaching the bed and pushing the blindfold up to Komaeda's forehead. His eyes are wet, pleading. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

   Komaeda nods. "W-who was it?"

   "Souda. Think he heard you when you came." One hand wanders down Komaeda's body, careful to avoid the mess he's made, wanting to keep it there as a reminder. He strokes over the older boy's ribcage, down past the slight dip of his waist before trailing his fingers over his width of his thigh. Komaeda shivers at every touch, and arches up, desperate for it. "Should've known you wouldn't be able to control yourself." He takes a moment to enjoy how delicate the skin is there, milky-smooth and centimetres from the crease between his thigh and his pelvis, before finally reaching between Komaeda's legs. Komaeda's cock is hard again, already, but he doesn't touch it. Instead, he grabs the toy, sliding it in and out a few times, enjoying Komaeda's mingled cry of pleasure and protest, before he gives the base a twist and takes his hand away. "I told you to be quiet."

   Komaeda just looks at him, his chest shuddering with shallow breaths, lips parted and shiny with saliva. "I will, Hinata-san, you won't hear me again, I-" he interrupts himself with a little gasp, and Hinata notices clear fluid bead at the tip of his cock before pooling onto his already come-covered stomach. " _Oh._ Oh..."

   But Hinata isn't ready to leave just yet. He moves from Komaeda's side, settling on his knees at the edge of the bottom of the mattress, between Komaeda's legs. The older boy's breathing is frantic with the anticipation. He cranes his neck to see what's happening, and Hinata meets his eyes with a steady gaze, his lips twitching into a smirk as he leans in, slow, and presses a closed-mouthed kiss to the blushing head of Komaeda's cock.

   Hinata doesn't stop there. He listens to Komaeda keen, feels him spread his legs somehow even wider as he dips between them, dragging the flat of his tongue up from the base to the tip, tasting what's left of Komaeda's last release.

   He swears he can feel the vibration, or maybe it's just the sound that's tricking him. The toy's sound is muffled but not completely. There's something about it that just appeals to him; the way it never stops, relentless and humming.

   "Nnnn..." Komaeda groans through gritted teeth, struggling against his bonds and rattling the headboard.

   "Shh." Hinata licks a stripe across the underside, trailing kisses all the way up the shaft, warm and smooth against his lips. It sends a dirty thrill through him to be doing this with his friends right in the other room. What would they think, if they could see him now, lapping so teasingly at the head of Komaeda's cock?

   This must be what Komaeda has been feeling all along, but better, more intense without even the slightest control over it.

   Hinata pulls away after a few more kitten-licks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The look on Komaeda's face is nothing short of devastated. He thrusts his hips weakly off the mattress, silently begging for more attention, but Hinata just gets to his feet again.

   "Be good," Hinata says again, and Komaeda nods, complacent. He doesn't move when Hinata places the blindfold back over his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally going to be a lot longer and may or may not be expanded at some point, but for now it's just a shortie. 
> 
> the total number of chapters is up to 31 because i plan on filling this one twice. ^^


	12. Communication [11 - Dom/sub II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cws: au where the komaeda bondage debate doesn't exist, crack, not smut, (maybe a little bit smut), bdsm/petplay themes

 

   He asks about it while they're washing the dishes, says the words like they're nothing. Like they aren't dirty.

   "How do you feel about BDSM things?"

   Hinata freezes, almost dropping the plate he's holding back into the sink. He turns his head, incredulous. " _What?_ "

   Komaeda just keeps happily drying the mug in his hand, placing it carefully on the drying board with a clink. "You know, master/slave, bondage, pet play, humiliation-"

   "Yeah, I know what it _is_ ," Hinata says hurriedly, his face colouring with the effort to stay nonchalant. "I've never really thought about it."

   He turns away, pretending to dry his hands on the dish-towel slung over one of the drawer handles. He doesn't make a habit of lying to Komaeda, but this time it's like he doesn't have a choice. Not when he's completely sober, in his everyday state of mind, and Komaeda just starts prodding as his deepest fantasies without even batting an eyelash.

   "You haven't, hm?" He seems to believe it, and he even has the audacity to sound mildly disappointed. He perks up instantly though, the brightness returning to his tone as Hinata turns back to him, surprised to see a genuine smile on the older boy's face. "Well, what do you think? You know I always like to make our private encounters as exciting as they can possibly be for you. And it would be exciting for me, too. If you want to."

   He scans Komaeda's features for some sign that he's joking, but Komaeda never lies. Especially not about things like this. He wouldn't be that cruel. "Honestly?" He smiles back, tentatively. "I think that sounds pretty hot."

 

~*~

 

   Hinata takes it upon himself to get ready as soon as possible.

   He browses his favourite stores online, wistfully adding items to his cart and growing more aroused by the second just imagining introducing them into their bedroom. He thinks about rope; hands bound behind his back, legs held apart with a spreader bar, unable to close even if he wanted to, but why would he? 

   He thinks about Komaeda degrading him in every way. Komaeda forcing him onto his knees, fucking his mouth, not caring if he chokes because Hinata is nothing more than his plaything. Komaeda coming all over his face afterwards. Claiming him. 

   But more than anything else he thinks about being Komaeda's pet. Being good for him, being /his/, wearing a collar and grovelling at his feet like an obedient puppy. He closes his laptop lid, teases his palm over the front seam of his jeans. Komaeda wouldn't have brought it up unless he wanted it just as much, and that's the most exciting thing; Komaeda wants to dominate him, wants to give Hinata everything he'd never dare to ask for. It's that thought, more than any other, that gets him off right there in his desk chair.

   Later, when he's fishing around in the dresser for clean underwear, his hand bumps against something stiff and cold. He shifts fabric aside until he can see it, and his breath catches in his throat when he does.  
Handcuffs. The chain is silver metal, the cuffs themselves made of something supple and pastel-pink, and these are definitely new. Either that or Komaeda has been hiding them all this time. He slams the drawer closed, dizzy with anticipation, and doesn't know which is hotter.

 

~*~

 

    _i’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom when you get home ;) dont be late._

   Hinata gets the text near the end of his shift, and he knows right away what Komaeda must have in mind. He has to try with all his might not to let his mind wander, not to get himself worked up before he's even home, but he can't help being antsy to leave and practically running out of the hospital in his hurry to catch the first train home.

   When he finally gets back to the apartment, the bedroom door is open just a crack, the faint glow inside informing him that there are candles lit, the mood already set. "I'll be there in a minute," he calls, his voice coming out pathetically strained with the effort to contain his excitement. Komaeda responds only with a soft 'mmmhm'.

   Trying not to get too giddy, Hinata tiptoes his way to the boiler cupboard, the one place in the apartment where he knows Komaeda never goes. It's been his trusty storage place for birthday presents and surprises for years now, but this time, everything in there is for him. He takes the bundle out and into the bathroom, hands trembling as he slides the lock into place.

   He puts his new purchases down on the toilet lid, taking a moment to breathe and compose himself before he starts stripping off. He only bought a few things, hoping to gauge what Komaeda likes the most before he goes all-out. When everything's off, he selects the first part of his ensemble; the collar, the most important thing. He takes the time to explore the weight of it, tracing fingers over the ridges and imperfections of the supple leather, until they finally reach the metal nameplate. Lovingly, he touches every letter. 

   B-I-T-C-H. 

   He has always wanted one of these.

   He puts it around his neck, fastening the buckle with ease. The metal settles deliciously cold against his warm skin. He tilts his head back, checking himself out in the mirror. It would probably look better on Komaeda, with his pale complexion and slender shoulders, but he likes it anyway. It feels heavy, ever-present, and when he swallows, he feels it even more.

   Just beneath the nameplate is a metal loop with a leash attached. He lets it hang for now, cold against his abdomen as he continues dressing.

   Next, Hinata steps into the soft, black boxer briefs he got to match the collar. Everything going according to plan, they won't be on for long, but it seemed like a good idea to have something to wear going in. 

   Every so often, he pauses, leaning against the door to listen for noises from the bedroom. The hum of a vibrator. The experimental crack of a belt striking the mattress. But all he hears is the occasional slight creaking sound, nothing out of the ordinary. 

   It only makes him more curious.

   Finally, he picks up the last of his items. Kitty ears, brown to match his hair, attached to a thin, transparent headband which will hopefully be invisible when he puts it on. He's pretty sure these are for children, but it doesn't matter. They were the closest thing to a puppy-related accessory he could find. He hums, adjusting them slightly. He supposes he's more of a cat person anyway.

   He steps out of the bathroom, checking himself over one last time in the full length mirror in the hall. He definitely looks the part; his arousal obvious beneath his underwear, all from nothing more than getting dressed and thinking about what Komaeda is about to do to him. And he can't believe he waited this long. Already, it's better than he imagined, and they haven't even started yet.

   As a last finishing touch, he puts the leash between his front teeth, holding it in his mouth like a dog would. 

   Like a pet would. 

   He takes a deep breath in front of the bedroom door, pausing to pull himself together. This is happening. Komaeda is waiting for him and this is happening.

    _Fuck_.

   Hinata pushes the door open, wincing at the creak of it, and just about dies at what he sees.

   Komaeda is naked, spread out on the bed, wrists bound to the headboard with those pink cuffs. Around his neck is a matching pale pink collar, with a steel heart over the throat, in the same place that Hinata's says 'bitch'. Beside him is a small assortment of objects; lube, a blindfold, a selection of their toys, and non-permanent marker pens. With a twist of mixed confusion and heat, Hinata notices that Komaeda has already taken the liberty of writing "USE ME" across his lower abdomen in wobbly letters.

   Hinata's jaw drops. The leash falls out. With every detail he notices, he feels himself coming all that much closer to a brain aneurysm. And all the while he watches, Komaeda is watching him, his eyes wide, uncomprehending.

   They break the silence at the same time, Komaeda saying "If-" just at the same time Hinata manages to stammer out a weak, "What-?"

   They fall silent again, just staring, frozen until Komaeda finally clears his throat and says, "If you want to unlock these," he pulls gently at his restraints, "the key is on the table there."

   His gaze goes to the surface, where sure enough Hinata can see a glint of silver from where he's still standing in the doorway. Hesitantly, he steps inside. His lips twitch, his throat tickling with the overwhelming desire to laugh and he doesn't know why. Maybe it's just his body's way of coping with the embarrassment that's starting to course through him in steady pulses, or maybe the bemusement on Komaeda's face is contagious. 

   He closes the door behind him. He doesn't know why. "Do you... want me to take them off?"

   "Hmm..." Komaeda pretends to think about it. "It's a little cruel of you to dress up like that and then not allow me to touch you, isn't it, Hinata-kun? But then, maybe that's your goal..."

   "Maybe it is." Hinata tries to keep a straight face, to play along. He approaches the bed, feigning confidence even though he's currently beet red and he knows it. "I should've known you were a sub."

   Komaeda stretches languidly, and smiles, and then the smile splits into a grin and he's laughing his breathy, hysterical laugh. "I could say the same about you. It seems we really are a lot alike."

   Hinata unlocks the cuffs one by one, and Komaeda sits up, rubbing absently at the words inked onto his skin. "Well, this is embarrassing," he says lightly, pulling his bare legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, still smiling. "All the websites did say communication is the most important thing when it comes to this sort of experimenting. I wonder if this is why...?"

   "Nah." Hinata shakes his head, touching his fingers to the collar around Komaeda's neck. It's thinner than his own, and softer. Velvet. He wonders where he found something so cute. "I'm pretty sure we're just idiots."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the joys of a switch pairing amirite.](http://31.media.tumblr.com/4c2e2238a5f3702e334ec1470b40721a/tumblr_n37har0bOE1r6mwalo1_1280.png)


	13. Out [12 - Fingering and 13 - Rimming]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komaeda's medication makes him a heavy sleeper. 
> 
> cws: post-game, **EXPLICIT NONCON** , abuse, somnophilia, caretaking, mental instability, drugs

   It takes a moment for him to realise that Komaeda is even asleep.

   He's laid out on the bed, face-down, completely naked in a way that makes Hinata's heart race. His hair is wet, staining the pillow, and his clothes are folded neatly on Hinata's dresser.

   Hinata can only stand in the doorway and wonder what the hell happened.

   The smell of coconut is thick in the air, and he recognises it as his own shampoo. Komaeda's body is still supple, hydrated, little droplets of water wobbing on his shoulders and the backs of his knees. When understanding dawns, Hinata is almost surprised this hasn't happened before. The woozy side effects of his medication combined with the heat of the island and the humidity of the shower means Komaeda was lucky to had even made it to the bed.

   "Sleepyhead," he says softly, unable to help smiling a little. Komaeda's weight makes moving the blankets beneath him impossible, so Hinata fetches his jacket instead, making to drape it over the sleeping boy's lower half to spare his dignity.

   He doesn't know what stops him.

   Maybe it's the position Komaeda's in, with the perfect globes of his ass completely on display, legs slightly parted and his face buried so deep in the pillow he could suffocate. It could be that Hinata remembers all the times he's fucked Komaeda like this, the way he clawed at the headboard and bucked his hips and cried out all the things Hinata loved to hear. Or perhaps it's the delayed realisation that Komaeda decided to shower in _his_  cabin, and he would never do that unless he had plans, unless he had wanted to surprise Hinata by being naked and freshly-washed and eager and the sedation just got in the way of it all.

   "So you were in the mood," he muses, sitting down at the side of the bed. He can't help idly stroking up and down the back of Komaeda's calf, where the pale skin is softest. The older boy doesn't stir at all. "It's like you can read my mind, sometimes."

   His fingertips move, teasingly, over Komaeda's hip and trace along the top of the curve of his ass, dipping into the indent of his lower back. His skin is warm from where the sun is streaming in through the window, casting him in a glow, and Hinata has never seen anything so flawless.

   He tries to ignore the fact that Komaeda's arm isn't bandaged, the scar tissue and stitches all the more grotesque for being hidden for so long, and the tiny snuffling sounds he makes in his sleep.

   "You're not waking up, are you?" He watches the rise and fall of Komaeda's breathing carefully as he stands, walks around the bed, and then repositions himself between the white-haired boy's legs, kneeling with his shins half off the bed so the angle is right. He leans down, pressing light kisses along the ridges of Komaeda's spine. "You need your rest, don't you, baby?"

   He lifts Komaeda's hips for better access, propping him up on his knees. His body is like lead, heavy with dormant muscles. Still, he doesn't react. "So pretty," Hinata mumbles, gently pulling Komaeda's cheeks apart to get a good look at his hole, so pink and tight from how little it's been used lately. He must have been missing it - why else would he have come here? It's been so long since they've been intimate, and Hinata can just imagine him working himself over in his bed in the infirmary, dreaming about this, coming all over his stomach with Hinata's name on his lips.

   He can't take it anymore. He presses a careful, closed-mouthed kiss to the base of Komaeda's spine, then dips further down, licking over his hole once, twice, three times. He gets no response but for the tiny flutter of muscles, but he wishes Komaeda would wake up like this. He wants to hear the happy, surprised little moans, see the smile on his face when he comes to feeling nothing but sparks of pleasure, Hinata's careful tongue. Komaeda loves this. He always has.

   Tentatively, he moves his hand beneath Komaeda's pelvis, and can't hold back a delighted little noise when he finds him half-hard, growing more interested by the second as Hinata keeps laving his hole with attention, gently working his cock to full alertness as he does. He swipes his thumb over the head and Komaeda finally gasps a little in his sleep, trailing off into incomprehensible mumbles before falling dead into unconscious silence again.

   When he's satisfied, he pushes himself up onto his forearms. "Tastes so good," tells Komaeda, quietly, trailing kisses down the inside of his thigh before he gets up off the bed again. He didn't notice the movement, but at some point Komaeda shifted so that his head is sideways, one cheek pressed to the pillow. Hinata takes a moment to take in how sweet he looks, his eyelashes a fan of white, lips full and red with involuntary arousal, a cute blush high on his cheeks. Then Hinata is rooting around in the top drawer of his night stand, taking out lube and closing it quietly.

   "This is your favourite." He combs gentle fingers through Komaeda's hair, not minding the wet or the few strands that come away. "So good it'll even get you off in your sleep." He brushes his thumb over Komaeda's lips, warm and satin-soft. "I bet you can't wait."

   Heart beating faster now, and trousers uncomfortably tight, he gets back into position at the foot of the bed, opens the cap, and drizzles the thick, clear liquid over his fingers, making sure they're coated and not too cold before he presses the first to Komaeda's hole. There's no resistance, his muscles slack with sleep and accepting the intrusion. He works it in and out a few times before adding another, unable to resist dipping his head to lick around the taut muscle where it's stretched, tasting clean skin and artificial strawberry.

   Komaeda sighs, an "mmm" sound under his breath, when Hinata crooks his fingers just right and presses against the spot he knows will make him squirm.

   Between slender thighs he can see that Komaeda's cock is still flushed, hard and dribbling precome at the slit. It never takes him long to get off, but apparently in sleep it's even easier. Maybe it's another side effect of new medication, he doesn't know, doesn't care - he focuses on giving Komaeda's prostate all the attention it needs until he hears him whimper and his muscles tighten around Hinata's fingers and his whole body shudders with his release.

   Hinata wraps his other hand around Komaeda's shaft and strokes him through it, still expertly pressing and kneading with the pads of his fingers until he's done, his body slumping, and he takes in a ragged breath like he's surfacing after being held underwater for too long. Hinata takes his time drawing his fingers out and wiping the remainder of the lube off on his bedsheets, enjoying the view of Komaeda's hole still spit-slick and pouting slightly open, like it misses him.

   When he gets up to put the lube back, something's different. His heart seems to jump into his throat when he realises that Komaeda's eyes are open, heavily lidded and out of focus but awake, gazing blearily up at him.

   Hinata drops the bottle to the floor, kicks it under the bed. "Hi," he breathes, kneeling down close with his forearms on the mattress. Komaeda just looks at him, expression blank but for the slight crease of his brows. "Looks like you had a good dream, hm?"

   Komaeda averts his eyes then. He must be able to feel the tackiness of his stomach, the hazy post-orgasm contentment. "Don't worry about it," Hinata says to the apology the other boy never gave. "I'll clean you up and put your bandages on, and change the sheets," he leans in to tenderly kiss Komaeda's still-unresponsive lips, "okay?"

   The white-haired boy makes a weak noise of protest. Hinata knows he hates being fussed over like this; on his better days, he tells Hinata as much. That he'd rather have Tsumiki change his bandages and brush his hair and clean his teeth on the days he can barely move, because Hinata is his friend, and his lover - not his nurse.

   "Don't complain." Hinata smiles good-naturedly, rolling Komaeda over onto his back, half-enjoying his obvious discomfort when his skin makes contact with the sticky-wet bedsheets. "You know I don't mind taking care of you, don't you?"


	14. Untitled [14 - 69]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cws: drabble, fluff fluff, no sex, prompt avoidance, which shocks absolutely nobody i'm sure 
> 
> Komaeda keeps count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yow, i guess that really was unlucky number thirteen cause i had /so/ much trouble with this instalment... until i decided to just screw the original prompt and write whatever. apologies to any 69-lovers out there. hopefully just getting this out of the way will make it easier to continue from here!

   "Hey."

   Komaeda wakes him with a less-than-gentle poke in the ribs, and Hinata doesn't bother to open his eyes. He just groans and rolls over, away from the addictive warmth of his boyfriend's body and onto his own side of the bed, chilly from being neglected during the night. The early-morning sun is streaming in through the window, a permanent orange glow behind his eyelids as he tries and fails to ignore the shift of the mattress beneath him, and the subsequent warmth of Komaeda pressing against his back, throwing an arm around his waist and nuzzling into the back of his neck.

   "Hajime-kun," Komaeda whispers against his skin, and Hinata curls up tighter, trying to pretend it doesn't feel as nice as it does. "Do you know how many times we've done it?"

   The question catches him off guard and he automatically rolls onto his back again and Komaeda's reflexes are quick, stilling the leg that's around his waist and then hoisting himself to straddle Hinata's hips.

   "No," Hinata replies, shielding his eyes from the sunlight, and _god_  he sounds grumpy, but in his defense it can't be later than eight in the morning. And on a _Saturday_. The thought makes him want to push Komaeda off him and bury his face in the pillow once more. His curiosity is piqued before he does, though, when a smile breaks on Komaeda's face and he has to ask. "Do you?"

   The laugh Komaeda gives in response is soft and under his breath, and he bends forward, burying his face between Hinata's neck and his shoulder. "Mmmhm," he hums, sounding oddly proud of himself. "Sixty-eight."

   "How do you know?" Without really thinking about it, Hinata wraps his arms around the older boy and pulls him closer. "Please don't tell me you've been keeping count."

   "I have a blog," Komaeda says, his voice muffled. After a beat, he adds, "It's private."

   "You _blog_  about our sex life?" Hinata can't help laughing, so much that Komaeda's slender frame shakes with it the movement of it. "Should I be worried?"

   "No, no. I always sing your praises, Hajime-kun, it's nothing like that." He lets go and Komaeda sits up again, bracing his hands on Hinata's chest, fingers spread out. He holds eye contact, smirking. "I just don't want to forget anything, and it's the next best thing to taking pictures. Sometimes I read it back, when you're away and I want to think of you while I-"

   "Bask in being a control freak?" Hinata interjects, but brushes Komaeda hair gently back from his face while he speaks. They've gotten good at reading each other's tones, but every so often, Komaeda still gets that manic look in his eyes and quickly agrees with whatever mock-insult Hinata throws his way.

   "Think of it as admiring your handiwork. Or recording it." His smile widens. "You can't tell me you remember _every_  single time."

   "Some were more memorable than others," he half-agrees. He doesn't elaborate, but Komaeda knows full and well what times he's referring to, and his eyes light up to prove it.

   "Anyway, the next entry will be the sixty-ninth," Komaeda explains at last, and Hinata's eyes grow a little wider, his heartbeat a little faster. "And I have some _very_  unoriginal ideas on how to commemorate it."


	15. Lifestyle [15 - Sweet and Passionate]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cws: non-despair au, d/s, fluff, domestic, petplay, sub!hinata, brief mention of bottom!hinata (but that's all), collars, punishments, the word 'hajime-chan', spanking, drabbles

 

~*~

 

 

   The first time Hinata brings it up, he's drunk - he's drunk and in Komaeda's lap, straddling him, pinning the older boy to the bed in his dorm room at Hope's Peak. It's the weekend, but neither of them go home at weekends. Alcohol is banned, of course, but it just so happens that some of Hinata's friends don't care.

   Komaeda is not one of those friends.

   "You're so drunk," he says, amused, curling his fingers into Hinata's hair while the younger boy hums his agreement. They're alone and shrouded in the dark, and Hinata has had his face buried in Komaeda's neck for a while, sucking and biting and kissing at the pale skin there. Even intoxicated, he knows how to make his boyfriend squirm. The buzz only emboldens him - encourages him to leave marks all over Komaeda, to make sure that on Monday, he'll be wearing his shirt collar higher than usual, buttoned all the way up, shooting dirty looks even though he didn't think twice about it at the time.

   He certainly isn't thinking twice about it now.

   "You're so sober," Hinata retorts, sitting up so he can kiss Komaeda's lips instead. He feels him flinch a little at the taste, but then he relaxes, drawing Hinata closer with slender arms around his waist. "I wish you weren't," Hinata adds, between kisses, when he draws away to breathe. "Or that I _was_ , I dunno- I just wish we could _do it_ -"

   Komaeda laughs aloud at his word choice, the sound warm between the both of them. Hinata grins, too. Another kiss, and another, and then he's pulling back again. "Seriously," Hinata insists, while the air is still light and happy and silly. "I want to."

   "Well, we can't," and Komaeda's voice is gentle, but there's clearly no room for negotiation. "I would be taking advantage of you." Komaeda's lips find his again in the dark, kissing him affectionately to soften the blow. But it doesn't.

   "So take advantage of me," Hinata whispers, trying to be as sexy as he can even though he's starting to wobble a little bit where he's propped over his boyfriend, and his body just isn't cooperating at all. "I want you to. I want you to have your filthy way with me, Komaeda Nagito." Hinata is the one giggling now, and he isn't even sure why - the line wasn't _that_  funny, and the smile on Komaeda's face is nothing more than conciliatory. "I'd let you fuck me, you know. Whenever-" another giggle slips past his lips, "-however you want. 'Cause I'm just yours."

   "Are you?" Komaeda breathes it out like he's really asking, and Hinata bumps their noses together in his haste to nod. Komaeda sighs, and smiles. "Mm. Keep talking and maybe you'll convince me, Hinata-kun."

   Hinata's slow-beating heart races at that, and the next moment they're kissing, open-mouthed, Hinata's dizzy mind spitting out words as they come to him. "I'd let you top me. Yeah, I would-" he adds, earnestly, at Komaeda's noise of disbelief. "I'd let you do whatever you wanted to me. Let you fuck me, let you- let you  _own_ me. Like _pet_. I'd be your little puppy, if you want me t-"  
  
   And even through the haze of alcohol, he doesn't miss the look of complete and utter _what the fuck_ that crosses Komaeda's face at that moment. But then his expression settles into something more curious than horrified, just before Hinata feels how flushed he's become, and buries his face in Komaeda's neck again.

   "I'm an idiot," he says - mumbles, really, and it's even worse with his voice muffled as it is. If his legs didn't feel so much like jelly, he's just get up and leave. "I'm sorry." He waits for Komaeda to push him off, but it doesn't happen. Hinata feels nothing but the steady rise-and-fall of Komaeda's chest beneath his, the warmth of his embrace. His voice comes out dry, strained. "I don't know why."

   Komaeda just strokes his hair, soothing. Hinata thinks he might even be smiling - bemused, probably, by the ridiculous display Hinata is putting on for him. "You don't know why you're sorry? Or you don't know why you were thinking about it?"

   He doesn't sound like he's judging, and Hinata relaxes just a little. "The..." he swallows, squeezes his eyes shut. "The second one."

   Komaeda makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, like he's considering it. "Well, are you looking for a psychoanalysis, Hinata-kun?"

   Hinata isn't. He really, really isn't. He can practically hear the gears turning in Komaeda's head anyway; just because his talent has nothing to do with his mind doesn't mean he isn't one of the smartest people Hinata has ever known, and he resents it at times like this; when Komaeda is inevitably going to understand on a deeper level than Hinata really wants him to.

   He doesn't reply.

   He's glad Komaeda takes it for a no. The older boy shifts, pulls Hinata up a little so they can kiss again, carefully, as though in wordless understanding. "Then, does it matter why?" he says - mumbles - against Hinata lips. "We should talk about this when you're sober, don't you think?"

   And they do.

 

-

 

 

   Hinata doesn't even know what date it is they're coming back from. It could be the twelfth or the hundredth depending on what you really define a date as - school life has warped the stages of their relationship into a blur of feelings and touches and nights spent sneaking into each other's rooms, but that's fine by him.

   The box sits heavy in his lap. They're on Hinata's bed, the lighting dim with late-evening and they're both in street clothes, _date_ clothes, which now smell like a bizarre mix of each other's cologne. "Just open it," Komaeda says, giving him a playful jab on the arm with his elbow. "It's not like it's an engagement ring or anything."

   It isn't. It's too big of a box for that. It's flimsy enough to look like it might have a cake in it or something, but Hinata has his suspicions.

   He lifts the top just a little, sees a hint of black leather, and quickly closes it again.

   He takes in an unsteady breath. "We don't have to do this."

   Komaeda goes tense, and for a moment Hinata panics. The last thing he wants to be is ungrateful, but this is so much. It's just so much.

   When he finally turns to look, he's greeted with a small smile. "You're right." Komaeda takes his hand, and all at once Hinata feels so small and so stupid - but also, like it doesn't matter at all. "We don't have to do this."

 

-  
  


  
   It's two weeks after graduation when Komaeda buys the house, because apparently the logical first stop after graduation is the seaside. Hinata understands - leaving the place where they'd spent the better part of the last three years was hard, but it was harder for Komaeda, who would rather ease the transition with a hotel stay, because down payments meant moving on, and moving on isn't easy for either of them.

   But they make it eventually, and it's beautiful.

   "Hey," Komaeda says from where he's watching Hinata haul the last of the boxes in through the front door. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'a house isn't a home without a dog'?"

   Hinata almost drops the box - almost, but he catches himself just in time, breathless, cheeks going pink under Komaeda's gaze. He puts it down and straightens, and when he turns around to retort, Komaeda looks so pleased with himself.

   "Oh, my god." Hinata raises an eyebrow. "Did you buy this place just to make that joke?"

 

-  
  


  
   He hunches right over the body beneath him, buried to the hilt. Pinning Komaeda to the floor, _claiming_ him - Hinata licks wetly over his master's neck and Komaeda shivers, pushing back even though Hinata is already as deep as he can go.

   Komaeda moans helplessly into the carpet when Hinata draws back and slams back inside. "Good puppy," he says, shifting his legs wider. "Just like that. Show me how good I-" he cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as Hinata picks up the pace suddenly, not holding back at all. "H-how good I trained you... _ah_!"

   This is what mating is - fast, frantic, and mindless.

   Hinata rakes his nails along his master's sides in his desperation to please him, their skin meeting with loud slaps every time Hinata pounds inside, rough and animalistic and unrelenting - his mind is blank, and he can think of nothing but the needy sounds Komaeda is making beneath him. He wants to reach down and touch him so badly, wants to make him come over and over again while he's taken. But he just goes harder, faster, until Komaeda suddenly tenses and cries out and then slumps, coming untouched the way he only ever does when they're like this.

   When Hinata is like this.

-

  
  
   Hinata has never seen Komaeda look the way he does now - so stern, so controlled and so completely and utterly in charge that it scares him just as much as it turns him on. Hinata sits at his feet, naked and collared on the floor. He wants to say he's sorry. _Wants_ to, but all he can do is hang his head and let out a pathetic whimpering sound.

   "What is this?" Komaeda demands, and a moment later, a piece of dripping-wet notebook paper is shoved in Hinata's face, right under his nose. It's practically falling apart. He tries to look away, but Komaeda grabs his chin and forces him to look. "Do you see this?"

   Hinata only whines, but he does. He sees Komaeda's pencil handwriting melted away at the parts where the paper is most saturated, and he sees the annoyance in his master's eyes when he meets them for just the briefest moment.

   "Is this my homework?" Komaeda prompts again, even though Hinata can't do a thing to answer him. He pauses, and then takes the paper away. "Did you get excited and knock water _all over it_ , Hajime- _chan_?"

   And this time Hinata has nothing to look at but his master's face. His face grows hot with humiliation, his dick pulsing embarrassingly between his legs and his heart heavy in his chest. He holds eye contact, feels his eyes welling up with tears because he's sorry, he's so sorry...

   Komaeda sighs like he never wanted this to happen.

   He finds himself over Komaeda's lap minutes later, face buried in a pillow, sensing Komaeda's raised hand and hearing the _slap_ before he feels the sting. Komaeda isn't strong, but it still shoves him forward a little, his cock dragging painfully over the rough fabric of Komaeda's trousers, and he lets out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

   And only two or three more jolts like that are going to make him come, combined with the new, interesting pain that lingers in the shape of Komaeda's palm.

   Komaeda hesitates for just long enough to let Hinata's face colour completely red with embarrassment before the second strike.   
  
  


-

 

   The garden is nice, well-kept with tall fences on all sides so none of the neighbours can see his nudity unless they lean right out of their upstairs windows. There's lush grass all around that he could play in, roll around in until he's too exhausted to do anything but lay back and watch the stars - but he can't, because even entertaining the thought is more pleasantness than he deserves.

   All he wants is to be close to his master, and that means pressed right up against the door, eyes closed so he can better hear the sound of Komaeda pottering around - cleaning away the food bowls and newspaper, and then starting dinner, the bubbling of water and clang of utensils barely audible above the radio. Hinata's stomach rumbles with hunger and he whines to himself.

   The sky grows somehow even darker around him, and he flinches when the kitchen light goes out, leaving him in the blackness. He can hear the occasional chirps of insects, the rustling of neighbourhood cats in the night. The descending receding sun-warmth has him curling up tight, his body shivering, the fresh marks on his ass and thighs stinging with the slight chill.

   And he really is just a stupid dog, because if he hadn't given in to his body, he'd be inside the house right now, laying at Komaeda's feet before a lit fire, and then following his master to bed and being fucked within an inch of his life for behaving so well. And then he'd curl up at the foot of the bed, safe and warm, _so warm_ instead of naked on the ground, leash tied tight around the metal railing because his master can't even trust him not to run off.

   Somehow, he dozes. He wakes, and the stars twinkle and go black. He wakes, and a cat is sniffing at his nose, and he barks drowsily at it. He watches it dart across the garden and over the fence as his eyelids grow heavy again.

   He wakes to something slamming against calf and a whispered, "Sorry!" from the doorway. The thing retracts, and Hinata gathers the awareness to move, drawing his legs up underneath him as Komaeda once again opens the door - successfully this time - and looks down at him with a hesitant smile. He takes a step back, keeping the door wide open so Hinata can crawl inside.

   He attempts it, but the harsh stone of the patio hurts his knees and he makes a pathetic sound in protest. Komaeda shushes him with another apology and kneels down, and then warm hands are at Hinata's neck, one finger tilting his chin up before his collar is unfastened and removed, and a gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead. "Stand up," Komaeda urges him, and Hinata does, still bleary, with minimal help.

   Dawn hasn't broken, and Komaeda is wearing his housecoat. Before he can register anything else, Hinata is pulled into a tight hug, Komaeda's voice soothing in his ear. "It's over," he says, kissing Hinata's temple as the younger boy blindly clings to him. "You were so good. So good for me, Hajime."

   And it's that, _Hajime_ , the use of his real name that finally snaps him out of it. Relief washes over him, tingling through every nerve as he finally finds the energy to pull back and kiss Komaeda chastely on the lips, feeling his smile and finding it contagious.

 

-

  
  
   "So," Komaeda says when they're in bed together one Sunday afternoon, naked with the sun streaming through the windows, one of his bony fingers tracing light, little circles over Hinata's stomach. The pattern goes over and over his abdominal muscles, his bellybutton, and down his sides until he gets ticklish and squirms and Komaeda's touch wanders back to where it started. "Can I ask what it... does for you?"

   Hinata is really half-asleep, his brain just barely clinging to Komaeda's words before he begins to drift into unconsciousness. It's a muggy, humid day, and his eyelids have been heavy for a while. The spiral touches are more soothing than he can take, some kind of muscle memory urging him to rest, to give in to the comfort.

   "A lot," is all he can come up with.

   The soft, amused hum Komaeda makes in reply brings him slightly further into wakefulness. "You look so peaceful," he says, smoothing Hinata's hair back from his forehead, and Hinata can only let him do it. His hands are still hesitant, as though he isn't sure, even after all this time, whether he's allowed these intimate touches.

   Hinata manages to crack one eye open, only to find Komaeda looking down at him with all the love in the world. He's propped up on his elbow, Hinata's head resting on the forearm, and for a moment he sight of his boyfriend's hair all in disarray and the pink flush that lingers on his usually-pale skin leaves him blank.

   "It feels good not to be a person, for a while." Hinata doesn't think about the words before they leave his lips, but it's not like it makes them any less true. He speaks quietly, as though anything too brash could shatter this; the steady rise and fall of their chests as they breathe; the distant sounds of chirping birds and suburban life outside; the dust motes floating in the sunlight by the window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, i am so sorry that this '30 day otp challenge' is rapidly turning into the '30 month otp challenge'. i had some hardcore writers block for the second half of the summer, and then i was working on this not-even-porn chapter... but right now this fic is high on my priorities, so i hope that means it'll be done before the end of the year.  
> anyway, thank you for all the support even though this fic has been lagging on for way too long. i really appreciate it. :')


	16. Kiss and Make Up [16 - In Public]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [cws: souda/komaeda/hinata, semi-public sex, **consent issues** , threesome - m/m/m, mild humiliation, mid-canon, ableist language, shower sex]
> 
> Hinata and Souda decide to apologise for their treatment of Komaeda after the first trial.

   "I'm telling you, you're not going to find anything."

   Hinata stands in the doorway, the frame digging sharp into his back. He's facing inwards, but the blazing sun is firm on the back his neck, the sensitive skin prickling and burning with the heat.

   "Ya know," Souda starts, straightening up from where he'd been rooting around in the desk drawer. He folds his arms over his chest, glares at Hinata with eyes narrowed. "The thing about bein' a lookout is that you're supposed to look _out_ , not at _me_."

   He moves on, closing the desk drawer and going to the bedside table instead. The endeavour may be ridiculous, but Hinata has to admire the methodical way that Souda works; keeping everything neat, putting things back the way they were when he's done. It must be that mechanic brain of his. Meticulous in every way.

   Hinata snorts. "Like everyone else isn't huddled under the aircon in the lobby right now."

   He has to dodge when Souda grabs a pair of socks from the drawer and throws them at him, just narrowly missing his face. "If you're not gonna do your job, why don't you go join them?"

   "Because," Hinata says empathetically, putting more weight on the doorframe. The door is still flung open, unmoving, no breeze in the air. "I'm pretty sure you need someone to make sure he doesn't scratch your eyes out when he comes back to find you rooting through his stuff, right?"

   Souda closes the drawer he's working on and glances back over his shoulder. His voice comes genuinely worried. "You think he'd do that?"

   Hinata shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, this is a pretty pathetic apology."

   "I'm just checkin', okay? Do you know how fuckin' stupid we'd look if we patched things up with him and then he turned around and murdered somebody?"

   Hinata lowers his voice, sombre. "Don't talk about it like that."

   Souda hesitates. "Y-yeah, yeah, man, I know. But you understand-?"

   "To an extent, I guess-"

   "Holy shit."

   "What?" Hinata perks up. "Did you find something?"

   "Oh, I found something." 

   He turns slowly, and at first Hinata thinks the thing in his hand is some kind of weapon, a club - and he'd laugh about his naivete in hindsight, because from the way Souda's eyes had gone saucer-wide, he definitely knew what it was from the moment he found it. But then Hinata notes the shape, with the distinct curves, creating differences in width along the shaft of the object, and also, belatedly, the fact that it's candy-pink.

   Souda wraps his free hand around the base and twists sharply to the side, and the room is all at once filled with a quiet buzz. Reflexively, Hinata steps closer and slams the cabin door behind him. He can feel his mouth agape, a blush high on his cheeks, like a schoolgirl.

   "Put it down," is all he eventually manages to splutter out, followed by, "That's been in his ass, Souda!"

   "I know!" Souda says, his eyes somehow growing even wider, but he just keeps holding it out in front of him, staring like it like it's alien. As an afterthought, he reaches down to the switch and the buzzing stops. "Where the hell did he get this thing?"

   Hinata flounders, because holy _shit_ that thing is big, and even bigger with Souda's slender fingers wrapped around it. The shorter boy is moving his thumb, stroking absent mindedly over one of the ridges. "I... I guess he brought it from home?"

   Souda gives the vibrator a sceptical look. Unlike Hinata, he isn't blushing anymore. He simply looks curious, like this is just a tiny setback to their plan. "On a school trip?"

   He draws the line when Souda starts moving his other hand up and down the shaft, making a tight fist around it, stroking slowly, watching the way the silicone just barely gives under his touch, soft but firm. Hinata snatches it out of his grasp and puts it none-too-carefully back in the drawer. "Three months-" he says, ignoring Souda's incredulous expression. "Is a long time. Imagine not jerking off for three months."

   They give the cabin a last once-over, making sure everything is in its rightful place before they step outside and let the door click locked behind them. "So he couldn't go without it for three months." Souda shoves his hands in his pockets as they start the walk back to the restaurant for lunch. "If we could get our hands on another one, it'd make a nice apology gift, right?"

   Hinata drags his feet through the meagre layer of sand on the path. He lets the silence stretch on for moments, and knows their minds are wandering the same way. "Or," Hinata starts, hesitantly, and the hitch in Souda's breath is all he needs to continue. "We could give him something better."

  
-  
  


   It isn't really stalking.

   It's a strong term and Hinata doesn't let it enter his mind while he follows Komaeda around the island, making notes of where he goes, and when he's alone. The way people have to know someone's routine before they can plan a surprise party, the way private detectives and police officers do stakeouts - this is just the same. It needs to be air-tight.

   Komaeda doesn't notice a thing. He sits alone at breakfast, cheerfully picks at his fruit salad before he spends the remainder of the morning in his cabin or out on the beach, with his face in a book, his peace a contrast to the way Hinata's heart hammers in his chest from where he's hidden. Komaeda takes a swim before lunch every day, by himself, the only person who can bare to use the beach house any more. Hinata finds it hardest to track him when he's in there. That's how he knows it's perfect.  
   
   "Nobody goes in or out," he tells Souda, hushed, over dinner that evening. "We'll be totally alone."

   Souda leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, stretching his legs out. "What if he's not up for it?" 

   "Then we leave, obviously." Souda cracks an eye open, gives him a look. "You think he'll hurt us? He won't have even any of his things. It's the safest place if anything goes wrong."

   Souda takes one hand down, settles it on his thigh beneath the table. Hinata's breath catches when he follows the movement and only just notices the shorter boy adjusting the obvious line of his dick beneath his overalls, half-hard just from talking about it. Their eyes don't meet, but Hinata's head spins and he knows he won't be sleeping tonight.

  
-  
  


   As soon as they step inside the beach house, they go silent. Hinata keeps his head high, striding through the entryway with his gaze straight ahead, fighting the urge to look around. He knows the place is clean, but in his mind's eye, he imagines he can still smell the blood, can still feel the fleeting warmth of Koizumi's corpse brush against his ankle as he passes the spot where they found her, propped up against the door, limp like a ragdoll. Souda lets out a small whimper from behind him, but Hinata presses on, and Souda swallows and does the same.

   In the locker rooms, they can hear the soft rippling of water from behind the double doors that lead to the pool. Hinata frowns to himself as he strips out of his clothes, down to his swim shorts, storing all his things in a locker. Nobody on the island has seen him like this yet, but Souda doesn't stare.

   Hinata doesn't stare either. They ignore each other until Souda eventually clears his throat and says, "You _can_  swim, right?"

   Hinata hesitates. "It's been a while," he says, but Souda just minutely rolls his eyes, claps Hinata on the shoulder, and leads the way through to the pool.

   Hinata goes with his towel around his waist and arms crossed over his chest. He knows it looks stupid, ruins the image he should be going for right now, but it's instinctual. Maybe he would be more comfortable if it were a "we're all boys here" situation, if their opinions didn't matter, if their bodies had nothing to do with each other's, would _never_  have anything to do with each other's.

   The room is cavernous, all blue walls and blue light and the sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool as it's displaced. Komaeda doesn't stop when they come in - doesn't notice, at first, the two sets of eyes on him, until he reaches the end of a lap and Souda calls out to him, "Hey."

   His tone is friendly, but Komaeda still starts, shoulders drawing in sharply for a moment before he relaxes and turns around, squinting at them, chlorinated droplets still framing his white eyelashes. No goggles. "Souda-kun?" He sounds only mildly surprised, holding himself up against the side of the pool, but then his tone goes to breathless when he says, "Hinata-kun? _Oh_..." and he trails off as though in understanding.

   Souda and Hinata exchange a glance before they approach the pool and sit on the edge, Komaeda still peering up at them from the water, his skin discoloured by the glow, blue veins even more prominent beneath near-translucent skin. Hinata half expectss him to grab onto his leg and pull him in, pull him under, smash his head against the tiles and stop his breathing before Souda can do a thing to help.

   But he doesn't.

   "I knew someone would come, eventually," Komaeda says, casually. He rests his forearms on the floor, fixes his gaze on Hinata, and Hinata looks back. Komaeda looks so strange with his hair wet, losing its volume but retaining the texture, as though no amount of water could straighten even one strand of it. He tucks some of it behind his ear, and smiles. "Well, you can take your time. I won't go anywhere. If you want to, we can pretend I didn't even see it coming."

   And with that, he kicks off the side and begins to swim again, dipping his head beneath the water for the first time just as Souda splutters out, "What the fuck?" He turns to Hinata, accusing, and Hinata throws up his hands before he can even start. "He knows?"

   "I don't know how he could." Hinata picks his words carefully because really, Komaeda is unpredictable. Unpredictable and vulnerable, almost naked, and so calm. Hinata is already well on the way to accepting that he's never going to understand what Komaeda talks about half the time - including now. He sighs, lowering himself into the pool. "You might as well ask him," he says, because what's the worst that could happen?

   Komaeda saying no?

   ...Komaeda saying yes?

   The water is lukewarm and comfortable. Souda swirls his legs, but doesn't join him. "This was the worst idea."

   Hinata can't bring himself to disagree. 

   He gets to watch the sleek form of Komaeda's body as he swims, all pale skin and protruding bones and just a tiny hint of muscle on his stomach and upper arms - probably from all the swimming. It doesn't take long for him to notice that he's being leered at from both sides of the room. The smile plastered on his face begins to fade, and by the time he eventually pulls himself out of the water and announces that he's going to shower, he looks nothing short of anxious.

   "We'd better go too," Souda says hurriedly, climbing out of the pool and slinging his towel around his waist.

   Komaeda stops, turning slowly on the tile, brows knit with confusion. His hair drips, leaving wet puddles in his wake. "But you've barely been in the water, Souda-kun."

   "'Course not. Don't you know what chlorine does to hair dye?" Souda raises his eyebrows and starts towards the showers, leaving Komaeda wide-eyed and silent behind him. Hinata follows his lead, and sure enough, Komaeda is behind them a moment later, wringing out the tips of his hair with his own towel.

   Hinata takes the time to look him over. Even with the way his figure has improved with the exercise over the last couple of weeks, he's still slender and frail - enough so that he and Souda can easily stop him if he tries to turn this situation around, to make it the perfect murder. But Komaeda is armed only with his swim shorts and his towel. Hinata makes a mental note to get rid of them as soon as possible, just in case.

   His eyes meet Souda's as they wait for Komaeda to pick a shower, clearly thinking along the same lines. The stall is communal, with ten shower heads all in a semi-circle. The white haired boy fidgets for a moment before selecting one of the middle ones, hitting the water switch without even removing his swim shorts. He bows his head, and Hinata allows himself one short glance at his ass, saturated material leaving nothing to the imagination, before he takes the shower to Komaeda's left, and Souda takes the one to his right.

   And this is about as far as they'd planned.

   There's a wet, almost sucking sound and Hinata braces himself against the wall, peeking past Komaeda's chest to locate the source before pulling back immediately. Fabric hits the wet ground with a slap, and Hinata can see the dark mass of Souda's swim shorts on the tiles.

   His eyes dart to Komaeda's face just in time to see him glance over, frantic, at Souda's nudity before focusing back on the wall in front of him. He swallows.

   "What's the matter?" Souda teases, just as Hinata gets his thumbs under the waistline of his own swim shorts, un-sticking them from his body before pulling them down as quickly as he can. The cold air hits his cold skin and he has to hold back a gasp, face heating up with reflexive embarrassment. "Don't you usually shower naked?"

   Komaeda swallows again, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling like he's praying. Hinata knows he isn't shy about his body - knows from the way he stripped off into his bathing suit almost as soon as they'd met, practically posing right in front everyone, hand on his hip and a smile on his face. "...I usually shower alone."

   Hinata half-heartedly washes himself under the lukewarm water, all-too-aware of how his dick is starting to react to the conversation. The mental image of Komaeda naked, and the real, flesh-and-blood, very-nearly-naked body right next to him. His gaze wanders from the tile wall to Komaeda's face. The other boy's cheeks growing steadily pinker, grey eyes trained right in front of him like he's afraid to look anywhere else.

   "You've never been to a bathhouse, or...?" Souda prompts, and Hinata can hear his grin even though he doesn't look, _can't_ look anywhere but at Komaeda's mortified face, feeling a smile on his own lips without any idea when he put it there. "Don't tell me you're hiding something from us."

   And then Souda nudges him, sends his unprepared body stumbling to the left, and the skin of his forearm brushes Hinata's and they both let out a gasp of surprise. Komaeda is the first to react, righting himself and blushing hotter, repositioning himself to close to the wall that his nose almost touches it and the shower spray just barely reaches the back of his head. His eyes close, white eyelashes decorated with little water droplets, pressed-together lips full and red from the chlorine sting.

   "Are you shy?" Hinata asks, his voice coming out raw, his arousal obvious in his tone. Komaeda answers with a shake of his head and a little squeak sound, then drags in a breath like he's preparing to speak. But all he does is step backwards, back under the spray again. He drags bony fingers through his hair, pulling white strands away.

   Souda laughs, and Hinata meets his eyes again. They're dark, his pupils blown, but still bright with that spark of _something_. "Oh man, I think he's shy!"

   The eye contact doesn't last long. Hinata's gaze wanders down, over the light muscle of Souda's body, taking in the few scars he has and the baby fat that lingers on his tummy before falling, unable to resist any longer, on his dick, hard and flushed between his legs. Hinata's in a similar state, and he wonders how Souda can just _talk_  when he's like this.

   "I-" Komaeda starts, shifting from side to side, and Hinata keeps his eyes at crotch level and notices with a start that he's- well, maybe not as hard as Souda, but the shape beneath Komaeda's swim shorts is definitely not what it was like earlier. "I suppose I'm just a private person. It's nothing personal, Souda-kun, I-"

   "We know," Hinata interrupts him, and he's rewarded by a confused and worried stare from Komaeda, his mouth falling open a little. "We know what you do with your private time. What you get up to when you're alone."

   "What-?" Komaeda blinks at him, turning in a little half-circle, giving Hinata his attention and Souda a nice view of his behind. Out of the corner of his eye, Hinata sees him raise his eyebrows in appreciation.  
  
   "We know you like it in the ass," Souda says, putting it so bluntly that Hinata has to laugh under his breath.

   Komaeda goes still, his whole body rigid with something Hinata can't place. Fear, excitement, humiliation - maybe a mix of all three, churning in his stomach and constricting his lungs. Hinata knows. He feels the same. Like they're stepping over the edge of something. Crossing a line they can't come back from.

   And then all at once he goes slack, as though in defeat, one hand coming up to briefly rub over once side of his face like he's wiping away tears, but his eyes are dry. He speaks quietly, without a hint of protest. "Are you going to tie me up again?"

   Hinata knows he wouldn't even try to stop them if they did. He'd let any talented student walk all over him. He already does.

   "Nah," Souda says from behind him, but Komaeda doesn't look convinced. He keeps his focus on Hinata, searching his face like he's looking for some trace of a lie. "That's why we're here. We wanted to apologise, for..."

   He pauses and trails off, and Hinata struggles to think of how to finish that sentence. Apologise for excluding him? Abusing him? Thinking that he was a batshit insane serial killer of some description?

   "For treating you the way we did." Hinata smiles reassuringly, and Komaeda's gaze flits between his face and - at last - his dick, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "And since you're so into this..." He reaches out an brushes his fingertips over the line of Komaeda's now definitely hard cock, and he's rewarded by a full-body shiver, Komaeda squeezing his eyes tightly closed. "We knew you'd appreciate us making it up to you this way."

   Hinata's touches grow firmer. He presses his whole hand up against Komaeda's dick, letting the fabric drag over it, and it must be uncomfortable but Komaeda still lets out a whimper of pleasure, taking an involuntary step backwards, finding himself settled right up against Souda's front. His breath hitches a little, unmistakably in surprise, the moment the redhead's dick is pressed against his skin.

   "He's hard?" Souda asks over Komaeda's shoulder, fingers creeping around the other boy's waist, stroking gingerly up and down his sides. Komaeda just stands, tense and still between them, unmoving but for the tiny jerks of his hips, almost grinding up against Hinata's palm.

   "Of course he is." Hinata runs his thumb over the head of Komaeda's cock, knowing it would be a hundred times better without the swim shorts in the way. But he waits. He wants Komaeda to ask - to beg for it. He must be losing his mind, feeling Souda's arousal against him and being able to see Hinata's. But he doesn't seem interested in doing anything about it just yet. "He's in a shower with two naked guys. What else would you expect?"

   Komaeda shudders at that, his eyes falling closed. "How-?" he begins, quiet, barely above a whisper. He breathes in, then tries again. "How did you know?"

   Hinata looks for Souda to answer, and in the interim, Komaeda tilts his head back in silent bliss. Souda takes the opportunity to kiss his neck from the back, chaste and closed-mouthed before shooting a grin Hinata's way, smug as if to say, _look how lucky I am_. "Heh. Let's just say a little birdie told us about your vibrator."

   "Oh..." Komaeda breathes. It warms Hinata's heart a little, the way he doesn't bother lying about it. There's no _it's not mine_  or _keeping it for a friend_ or _how did that get there_? Just muted acceptance, and maybe even a spark of excitement.

   There's the squelch of wet fabric and Komaeda goes still for a moment before letting out a _moan_ , shifting his hips forward. "So what do you like more?" Souda asks him, and a peek to the side lets Hinata know that he has a hand down the back of Komaeda's shorts. "Being fucked?" Komaeda shakes his head, then whines as Souda does something - touches his hole, or maybe he's already pushing inside, Hinata doesn't know but _god_  does he want to. "Or sucking cock?"

   " _Jesus_ , Souda," Hinata breathes, and he has to get a hand on his own dick at that, because _fuck_ , he had no idea this boy had such a mouth on him.

   Komaeda actually seems to consider it. Hinata can't blame him for being a little foggy in the mind. Not when Souda starts kissing all over his neck, sucking bruises into the skin, biting lightly at the juncture of his shoulder, and his earlobe. Not when the movement of his hips gets more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he nears the edge.

   Hinata pulls his hand away, meeting Komaeda's horrified expression with a teasing little smirk. "Answer him."

   For a moment, Komaeda looks like he might refuse. Like his sensibilities have been so offended that he's just going to march right out with wet hair and his body all hot with arousal. But then he settles back into Souda's touches, reaches for Hinata's hand and puts it back on his dick with a hesitant smile. "B-being fucked," he admits, breath hitching when he finally gets the contact he needs.

   Hinata takes his hand away again, and this time it looks like Komaeda might cry. "You think we're going to apologise with a handjob over your clothes?" He raises an eyebrow, and Komaeda bows his head in submission, not bothering to reply. Hinata moves closer, so their bodies are almost touching. "You think I'd be able to do this with someone as hot as you and not want more?"

   Komaeda whines again in protest when Souda takes his hand out of his shorts, placing both on Komaeda's shoulders instead and urging him down. "Suck his dick and I'll think about it," he says, almost cruel.

   Hinata looks on in wonder as Komaeda obeys without a word, sinking to his knees and looking up at Hinata from beneath his eyelashes. And he can't help wondering if Komaeda has done this before, and how many times; and to whom, and why, and where, and if they came in his mouth or on his face. The last thing he ponders is if it's really safe to let _Komaeda_  have free reign with him down there, but then a soft tongue laps out over the head of his cock and his thoughts abruptly stop.

   Because it's Komaeda - psychopathic, dangerous Komaeda who half leaned over his podium at the first trial and begged to be _murdered_. Komaeda who kept him awake some nights with fear, half-conscious hallucinations of the boy creeping in through his window with a knife, forcing his hand, or slitting his throat - Komaeda who everyone feared. And here he is, on his knees, with his lips stretched around Hinata's cock and loving every second of it.

   Hinata tangles fingers in the brittle white hair, holding him there until tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Oh, if only they could see him now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is still abandoned, i swear. i just happened to find this super old wip almost finished and decided, hey, might as well put it here.


	17. Transit [17 - On the Floor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [cws: oral sex, public sex, exhibitionism, inexplicable shift to the past tense]
> 
> anon asked: what about the prompt where Komaeda and Hinata have sex on a train (far off from the other passengers) and they try to stay quiet?

   Whoever cleaned these trains needed to be fired.

   That was Komaeda's only thought as he contorted his body beneath the table, struggling to find a comfortable position. Hinata's fingers carding through his hair confirmed that nobody had seen him move - meaning that nobody knew he was here, sandwiched between the seats that faced each other, other than the two of them.

   Composure. He wasn't nervous, but that didn't stop his heartbeat skyrocketing at the knowledge of what he was about to do.

   Crouched beneath the table as he was, nobody would be able to see him unless they averted their eyes down from across the aisle. A glance in that direction confirmed that the occupants of those seats - a middle-aged couple sitting across from one another, bags and coats piled in the empty space beside them - were still dozing, having long since settled in for the journey.

   A shift from above, hand gone from his hair, and Hinata was tucking his backpack beneath the table on the aisle-side, better hiding Komaeda from view. He'd bet the younger boy was looking successfully nonchalant, still fiddling with his phone, completely inconspicuous.

   He raised his fingers to Hinata's fly, holding his breath. He took the zip down slowly, tensing at every agonizing sound it made. They had to hurry, only about twenty minutes away from their stop. It was well after curfew, but on a Saturday this late into term, the staff had surely given up in trying to corral the older pupils back to campus - and at that point, why not break all the rules they could?

   Komaeda always seemed to end up in trouble, anyway.

   He tried to focus on his silence instead of how gross it was down here, with wads of gum just centimetres above his head and dust clinging where the bottom of the seat met the linoleum floor. He was too tall for the space to do anything but fold him almost in half, and he was sure that once things really got started, he'd have no choice but to bump against the underside of the table a couple of times.

   It would be worth it, though. 

   With the zip undone, he swiftly and soundlessly popped the button open. His own hands were trembling, excited as he was - not that it was a surprise. Being pushed beneath a filthy table (even if it hadn't been so much _pushing_ as him sliding down there of his own accord), forced (gently encouraged) to suck off a guy (his boyfriend) on a crowded (mostly empty) train - well, wasn't that exactly what someone like him deserved, anyway? The role of a worthless person, to be used with no regard to their own comfort.

   He kept those thoughts to himself these days, but they still got him going like nothing else. He was _lucky_ , so lucky, that Hinata was willing to indulge him from time to time.

   Not that Hinata hated it, if the hardness beneath his underwear was any indication. Komaeda palmed over it almost absent-mindedly, trying to imagine what the reaction would be. From here, he could only see Hinata's thighs and crotch, his own hand, and the very bottom of Hinata's shirt, close enough to smell the fabric softener on his clothes - not enough to tell if he was starting to breathe faster yet, or if his cheeks were flushing pink.

   It didn't take long at all to get him ready. He found and quickly devoted his attention to a spot on the underside, just below the head, that made Hinata squirm every time. Komaeda had never been good at being quiet and composed, but Hinata - he was _too_  good, could always manage low whispers when Komaeda's had long since lost control of his voice, always managed to bite down on something at the right moment to stifle his moans when they messed around in public like this, gave into their impulses and somehow never got caught.

   The friction of the fabric must feel good. Komaeda gathered that much from the way Hinata opened his legs a little wider, as though silently begging.

   And what kind of boyfriend would Komaeda be if he didn't indulge him?

   He reached inside Hinata's underwear and, with great care not to let it touch the dirty underside of the table, moved Hinata's erection into the open.

   He couldn't do much without the space to move his arm without elbowing Hinata in the knee, so he opted instead to simply hold it around the base and lower his mouth to the warm, pink-flushed skin, licking out and feeling Hinata's thighs tense almost imperceptibly.

   Footsteps. Someone was moving down the aisle, and that only spurred him on. He let precome smear across his lips and face, something Hinata could surely feel, He was growing quickly uncomfortable, his body not used to such cramped quarters and the post that held the table up digging into his back as he attempted to keep up his slow teasing. 

   Hinata's fingers twisted into his hair and pulled him back, a line of drool still connecting them when the voice came from above them, " _ticket_?", and Hinata's other hand fumbled in his pocket. Komaeda tried not to breathe, tried to make himself somehow smaller behind the bag. He could see the man's black trousers just inches away from his own face, wondered what would happen if he just-

   He leaned forward and licked silently across the head of Hinata's cock, tasting the precome that had gathered there in his absence, and above him, Hinata gasped before he could stop himself. Komaeda smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the tip before pulling back again and listening to the conductor ask if he was alright, son, and Hinata confirming that he was fine, sorry, and the thrill running through him was almost deafening, the speed of his heartbeat nauseating. Just one glance underneath the table, and everyone on this train would know what he was doing. What _they_ were doing.

   Komaeda amused himself with even more kisses along the underside as the conductor moved along, and didn't even flinch when Hinata's foot nudged him in what he supposed was intended to be a very gentle kick. Oh, they were too sly. Komaeda - as he eased himself closer and took Hinata into his mouth properly, sinking down until his lips pressed against the fabric of Hinata's underwear and his throat was stretched, alarm bells going off in his head that he needed to move away - was too sly to get caught, even as his throat muscles spasmed and Hinata let out a choked sound that faded into something suspiciously like "-fucking hate you right now-".

   Komaeda didn't move. If he just stayed like this, it would only take Hinata moments to succumb to the feeling, the tight heat and the knowledge that there were complete strangers just a few feet away from them, unknowingly sleeping through their dirty, _perverse_  sex-

   Hinata's hips bucked and come flooded Komaeda's throat. He pulled back a little, getting the second spurt across his tongue and a groan from Hinata that he managed to pass off as a cough halfway through. Komaeda coughed, too, his abused throat not quite ready to swallow when he attempted it, and for a moment they both stilled; Komaeda would have bet his life that Hinata was looking at the people across the aisle as well, but they didn't stir, and that was all the security Komaeda needed before he clumsily wiped off his mouth and chin and pulled himself awkwardly up into the seat beside Hinata's with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was actually finished and intended for the previous prompt, but it fits this one too i think.
> 
> i couldn't figure out the logistics of proper train sex, but since this prompt was from like a year ago i figured something was better than nothing. ^^


	18. Sheets [18 - Morning Lazy Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't that Komaeda had refused to go to the doctor, so much as he'd refused to acknowledge that it was even happening to begin with.
> 
> cws: non-despair au, **watersports** , bed-wetting, incontinence, talk of death/cancer/etc, relationship issues(?)
> 
> (note that while everything that happens _is_ consensual, there's a sort of one-sided-and-mildly-depraved-fetish situation and no kink negotiation. i'm not really sure what to call that, so please be careful!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowww someone looking for cute morning sex probably just had their hopes crushed so bad. i'm very sorry.

   Hinata hadn't known that Komaeda was capable of embarrassment at all until the first time.

   Shame, yes - shame that made him shudder with joy, coaxed him into babbling self-deprivation until his voice went raw and hoarse - _that_  he was capable of. But just plain embarrassment, without a single undertone of pleasure? That was alien, until the first time Hinata woke to dampness and the jostling of someone trying to pull the sheets out from under him without waking him up.

   The lights were all off, and the puzzle pieces didn't quite slot into place until he took it all in. The barely-visible wet stain across the sheets that Komaeda was bundling into his arms like he was trying to hide them. The more visible wetness of the mattress; without thinking Hinata put his hand palm-down in the middle of it. Wet. He ignored the wince from Komaeda, the way the older boy's mouth was pressed into a hard line and his eyes averted to the floor as he shuffled around in pyjama bottoms that clung to him, especially around the back, collecting all the bedding and then padding away without a word. 

   There wasn't much for Hinata to do after that except curl onto his side and attempt to sleep through the sounds of the washing machine running downstairs, the shower, the floorboards creaking as Komaeda fetched the spare blanket and went to spend the night on the couch.

 

   It could have been anything, really. Hinata's best bet was on the medication designed to soothe Komaeda and calm him down, but there was also a chance that it could be a side effect of the dementia itself, or the tumour pushing into places it shouldn't in Komaeda's brain, or even the general stress of the diagnosis kicking in in the worst way.

   Hinata wasn't in any position to make a diagnosis of his own, but really, it wasn't that Komaeda had refused to go to the doctor so much as he'd refused to acknowledge that it was even happening to begin with.

   Hinata woke up to a soaked and empty bed in the middle of the next night. And then the night after that. And then it skipped three nights, during which Komaeda valiantly didn't drink anything after dinner, but then it happened yet again without warning.

   Hinata was wet all over his left leg and pretending not to notice Komaeda moving around in the darkness. Komaeda shuffled his own pyjamas off and changed his underwear before he set about trying to strip the bedding as usual. He was getting better at it.

   "It's okay," Hinata attempted when his act of feigning sleep through Komaeda frantically pulling the duvet out from where he was leaning on it had become implausible. He sat up against the headboard, and, keeping clear of the wet patch that Komaeda was pointedly not looking at, patted the space beside him. "Come sit down."

   "No thank you," Komaeda replied curtly. He was tense all over, nothing but a shadow in the darkness.

   Hinata looked steadily at him. As steadily as he could, when Komaeda's face was turned away. "You know we can't keep doing this." He patted the mattress again; and again, Komaeda didn't budge. "What's going on?"

   "Nothing." Firm. Too firm to mean anything but 'stop'. 

   Injecting sympathy into his tone when he said, "Komaeda-" did absolutely nothing to help.

   "Don't." Komaeda's voice only wavered a little, easy to miss. And then he smiled, tight and forced, as though nothing was wrong.

   Hinata could only watch as he turned away and went off to the laundry room again, closing the bedroom door hard behind him, and Hinata finally had to cave and flip the mattress after that.

   There was nothing else he could do about it. Especially not behind Komaeda's back.

   Because Komaeda might have been easily distracted, but he'd notice a plastic mattress cover any day, and suggesting any kind of _padding_  would be embarrassing for both of them, but especially for Komaeda, even though that would likely be less of a hassle than having to change and wash the sheets every other night.

   As long as they were sharing a bed, this wasn't a private issue, but Hinata elected to give him the illusion anyway.

   If it were him, he'd want the same courtesy extended, without a doubt.

 

   After two weeks, it was growing increasingly clear that they were going to need a new mattress at some point, but Komaeda didn't really seem to care about that.

   The accidents (as Hinata had labelled them in his head, though with a firm promise to never utter the term aloud) went from every few nights to every second, and after the fourth night in a row, Komaeda stopped talking to him almost entirely. No acknowledgement at breakfast, no texts during the day when Hinata was at work. No sex since that first night, as though the bed itself was tainted.

   Hinata was pretty sure Komaeda only slept in it because he didn't want to risk making a mess of the couch.

   Which was fair enough, really, since the mattress was already fucked, so what did it matter?

   But one night, after Hinata was left once again in a stripped bed, alone and very awake, he decided not to turn the mattress over.

   It was morbid curiosity, he told himself, and no more than that.

   The fact that the dream he'd been torn from had left him hard, heartbeat still racing from the half-remembered fantasy of Komaeda's hands touching him in a way they hadn't in quite a while, had absolutely nothing to do with it.

   And if he happened to position himself slightly over the stained part, feeling the damp of it against his naked back and thighs while he jerked himself off and came _way_ faster than usual, well, who was going to know?

 

   It didn't stop, and Komaeda was sleeping less and less. 

   Hinata supposed he was staying up late, anticipating it, and Hinata wanted to do was tell him that it was _okay_  and that he didn't think it was gross and really, it was a doctor's job to probe around people's orifices and prod at bodies and they wouldn't even bat an eyelash at this.

   He had a feeling (but no evidence) that the shame and subsequent stress was only making it worse. Komaeda had a tendency to let his thoughts get away with him, and Hinata had no doubt that right now he was slowly and steadily building himself up to the belief that Hinata was coming to the end of his tether with this. 

   And he wanted to blame Komaeda for that, but he couldn't. Most boyfriends would be. Most boyfriends would've marched him down to the doctor's office after the second impromptu load of laundry, but really, Hinata had never been overly squeamish about that sort of thing. He'd even had a phase in high school where he looked up videos (and if it still happened once in a while, well, it was just an accident, he couldn't help what he stumbled across and he wasn't like he _always_  got off to them--)

   In the end, he didn't say anything except 'goodnight', leaning over to give Komaeda the usual quick kiss before settling down for sleep.

 

   The sun was up when he woke, which was a good sign.

   Parts of him - the parts near where Komaeda had one leg slung over his waist, cuddled close and completely out for the count - were soaked and _warm_ , which was less of a good sign. Warm and getting warmer by the second, which meant--

   Hinata froze, eyes darting to the side to make sure, but Komaeda's eyelashes only fluttered and no more than that.

   Which meant he was still...

   Lips only slightly parted, Hinata imagined that he could see the ghost of something like relief in Komaeda's features. He had never watched this part before. He'd always woken up in the aftermath, missing the slow, easy spread of the fluid through Komaeda's underwear, against the bare skin were Hinata's shirt had ridden up a little in the night, damp inner thigh resting right where Hinata had definitely not been so hard when he had woken up.

   It was hard to tell exactly when it stopped.

   Komaeda didn't jolt awake like Hinata expected him to. He just dozed, content in his unconsciousness.

   And Hinata could have let him. He could have let Komaeda lay there for as long as it took for the urine to cool enough to be seriously uncomfortable, could have gotten up and left his boyfriend to deal with it alone as he apparently preferred to, could have let the cycle repeat until god-only-knew-when.

   But he didn't. He couldn't.

   Instead, he broke the silence.

   "What were you dreaming about?" he asked, as softly as he could. He raised a hand to push Komaeda's hair back from his forehead, trying not to startle him even though he    knew that he'd bolt the moment he realised what had happened.

   The realisation ebbed in with his consciousness. Hinata felt the body against him go rigid, Komaeda's eyes opening with slow, dawning, horrible dread to meet his own. He must have been taking in the discomfort of sticky clothes against his sensitive skin, familiar by now to both of them.

   "Don't get up," Hinata quickly demanded, just as Komaeda made a move to. He shifted, an aborted movement to kick the covers off, and the slight friction on Hinata's dick had him letting out an involuntary groan that went unnoticed.

   Whether Komaeda's hesitance was born from an instinct to obey instructions, or whether he'd simply realised that removing the covers meant exposing the damage, Hinata couldn't tell. All he knew was that Komaeda was pale and looking like he wanted to curl up and die. Weary with both sleep and the lack of it. His gaze was fixed on Hinata's chest, unable to look him in the eyes.

   Then, he actually did curl up -- not against Hinata, but not away from him either, keeping that one leg where it was but ducking his head, pulling into himself as though in defeat. There was no pretending anymore. 

   Komaeda wasn't usually prideful in the least, but apparently he'd had ideas about passing away with the last scraps of his dignity intact. And there was no dignifying way to deal with this.

   "I miss mornings with you," Hinata said, honestly. Tenderly. He never thought he'd say something so sincere while streaked with someone else's urine, but, unsurprisingly, it didn't bother him in the least. "Why are you avoiding me? This is okay."

   He tried to take Komaeda's hands in his, but they weren't anywhere in sight, and he felt one brush against his leg just in time to realise that Komaeda was checking how bad the situation was.  
  
   Pretty bad, all things considered. There had been no space between them at all, and Hinata hadn't given him a chance to stop the flow, and he was still so turned on that he almost felt feverish, which was so wrong on so many levels.

   "It's not okay at all." Komaeda's voice came muffled and a little hollow.

   He had to do something about this, and maybe the best thing to do would be to drag himself down to Komaeda's level. _Past_ Komaeda's level.

   (Not that he was going to wet the bed, because he was thoroughly potty trained and that would prevent him even if he wanted to, but there were worse things to expose about himself. And soon he wouldn't even have a choice.)

   "You shouldn't be ashamed of this. It's..." He moved his hand from Komaeda's hair, down to caress his cheek. His hands were clean, but he had a feeling Komaeda couldn't say the same for his own.

   "It's disgusting," Komaeda finished for him.

   "No." Hinata had meant to say something else, to explain himself, but he couldn't. There was nothing more eloquent or concise than a subtle roll of his hip, up against where Komaeda's damp thigh was still touching him.

   If he hadn't felt Hinata's arousal before, he certainly had now -- he finally lifted his head, and the startled look he gave Hinata was enough to make that clear.

   "No," Hinata said again, making sure to hold eye contact, just to prove his honesty. "I like waking up this way. With you. It's..." He trailed off with a swallow. "I want to..."

   "You aren't serious." Komaeda was staring at him. Unsure. Like he thought this might be some kind of joke gone way too far.

   Hinata had to laugh, just a little, under his breath and gentle and acutely self-deprecating, so Komaeda would know he wasn't being laughed _at_. "You have no idea. I've wanted this since the first time, I wanted..." Komaeda's thigh moved against him, the fabric _dragging_ , and it was more of an experimental nudge than anything but it still left Hinata breathless. " _Wow_."

   "Wow?" Komaeda's expression was torn between scepticism and... interest, maybe? He wasn't pushing Hinata away, wasn't taking off his pyjamas even though they would be soaked dark under the blankets, Hinata knew that, could picture it so easily it almost frightened him. Komaeda moved his thigh again, making Hinata gasp, and this time he rocked up to meet it with little restraint.

   Maybe this had gone too far, after all.

   "Feels good. Fuck." He sought out the crook of Komaeda's neck and buried his face in it, shifting their positions slightly now that he was sure Komaeda wasn't going anywhere. "Can I?" 

   He felt Komaeda nod. Now, turned on his side, he could grind against his boyfriend's leg unimpeded, and he did, half-ignoring the amused sound Komaeda made, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. "You aren't actually..."

   "Yeah, I am." He was getting off on this. He was going to _come_  like this. He clung to Komaeda tighter, moving against him, glad he didn't have to see those grey eyes on him, though he could feel them. "Is that so hard to believe? God, it feels like..."

   He couldn't say what it felt like if he tried. There was something about this that was _better_ , so much more filthy and exhilarating like anything they'd done before. And the fact that Komaeda was just letting him do it, even though he had to have been disgusted -- Hinata could imagine his features all pinched with his distaste, nose wrinkled. It sent shivers all down him, even as Komaeda began to sort of awkwardly wrap one arm around his shoulders, holding him there, spurring him on.

   Outside, he could hear one of their neighbours getting into a car, probably taking their kids to the park. Sunday morning. Someone was cutting the grass across the street.

   And here he was, in a piss-soaked bed, rutting against his boyfriend like some barely-sentient animal.  

   "There is something seriously wrong with me," Hinata managed to get out.

   Komaeda was making no move to touch him, or really do anything except let Hinata prove how much he wanted this. He wasn't disagreeing, either.

   And Hinata was getting close, rapidly close, and then suddenly he was coming, clinging to Komaeda for dear life and making little frantic jerks against his hip and thigh, the friction so intense even though the layers of their wet clothes. He couldn't think of anything except what Komaeda was going to say to him when this was over. How Komaeda was going to _look_ at him. He was dizzy with it. 

   He didn't move away when he came back to himself. He couldn't even bring himself to remove his head from where it was buried in Komaeda's shoulder, the skin beneath his lips slick from where he'd been absently kissing and biting and whimpering.

   It wasn't quite so hot anymore. The whole thing hadn't taken more than maybe five minutes, but everything had cooled, and he was feeling a little itchy from the damp fabric. The fact that he'd come in his pants didn't improve the sensation at all

   And Komaeda didn't move him. He just held him through the overwhelming silence. 

   They had a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!
> 
> you might have noticed that i took the 'abandoned' tag off this work, but i honestly have no idea about the status of this fic anymore. this chapter ended up being longer than i'd anticipated because i really missed writing these characters, and the fact that some of you have been reading this for almost an entire year now (!!!) is really amazing, so this is the one fic i'd really like to see finished... though i really suck at sticking to my word about that. 
> 
> also, happy delayed valentines day. ^^ if you're still in the romancey mood, i'm sure this chapter knocked it right out of you!


	19. Sunshine [19 - Outdoors]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually it's the opposite; Komaeda dragging Hinata down into his depravity, down to his level -- that's what Hinata tells himself. That he's being dragged. Seduced.
> 
> [cws: canon verse, frot, some temperature play, semi-public sex, mentions of canon-typical violence, unreality trigger warning (for simulation-related stuff), despite the summary this is actually very mild]

~*~

 

   "It's a nice day," Komaeda announces to everyone at breakfast, and Hinata watches the others all nod and murmur along in agreement.

   Silently, he commends them for how stubbornly they refuse to acknowledge that they've been here for almost a month now and haven't seen a single tropical storm yet. Every day is a nice day - at least, every day since the first.

   This phenomenon is similar, in a way, to how they've all pretended to not have noticed anything unusual about the fact that they're all eating fruit parfaits and cereal with fresh milk, even though no supplies have come in. The sun is out, and everything is fine, and it's not suspicious in any way that Kuzuryuu survived a blade through the abdomen, not suspicious at all.

   Hinata knows they are not all that stupid.

   "It's beautiful," he agrees. Komaeda beams at him, singling him out from the small crowd with his smile.

   (It's also similar to how everyone pretends not to notice when they spot Hinata sneaking back from Komaeda's cabin in the mornings. Entrenched in denial, he thinks, but it suits him just fine. He's more than happy to take part in this particular charade.)

   "We should all go to the beach," Nanami suggests from Hinata's other side, momentarily looking up from her 3DS. He thinks that it must pain her to suggest it, almost. The glare on the screen would be unbearable.

   There's a flurry of _oh yes!_ and _sounds fun!_ from all directions, but nobody looks more pleased than Komaeda does. Breakfast untouched, he slides his chair back and stands immediately. "Don't you think we'd better get some sunscreen, Hinata-kun?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow, when Hinata doesn't get up as well. And that draws a few _looks_ , being referred to as a _we_ , but nobody says a word.

   The same way they don't say anything about how they never seem to burn, even when they forget the lotion, even on the hottest days.

   It's just one of the many things they don't talk about.

  
***

  
   They set up their beach towels a little further away from the others, the three of them. Nanami takes up a spot underneath one of the coconut palms, and Komaeda lays out the other two towels about five feet away from her while Hinata half-drags the cooler down the beach towards them. He managed to negotiate them one of their own, full of Blue Ram and orangeade and strawberry milk and a few ice-creams for good measure.

   He's almost certain that everyone else wants them to have privacy just as much as they do.

   Most of their classmates are already in the sea or building sandcastles by the time Hinata settles down, still fully dressed (though barefoot), on his towel. He doesn't miss the disappointed look Komaeda gives him when he notices.

   To acquiesce, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and the legs of his trousers, and then shrugs.

   Komaeda shrugs back at him before lying back on his elbows, a motion which makes the bones of both his shoulder blades and his ribcage stand out in a way Hinata can't help grimacing at.

   "You two have a way with words," Nanami tells him, deadpan, sipping on her milk and looking past him towards the others, splashing and chasing each other around in the surf. He wonders what her excuse is for not joining them, but he doesn't pry.

   It really is hot. Hinata's forehead is damp already and he wishes he wasn't wearing so many clothes; he presses a can of orangeade to his temple, but it doesn't do much. Even Komaeda seems more at ease than he could dream of being right now, sunning himself like a cat with his head tilted back, one grey eye half-open, watching Hinata watch him.

   Hinata blinks. He hadn't meant to stare.

   Komaeda has the audacity to give him a knowing smile - or at least, that's what Hinata thinks it is. He hasn't quite caught the nuances of reading Komaeda's body language yet. It doesn't flow like most people's, but Hinata is still inclined to trust it more than the things Komaeda comes out with most of the time.

   At least he can drown most of it out when they're in bed together.

   Or shove his fingers in Komaeda's mouth.

   Or something else.

   The bottle of lotion landing in his lap pulls him right out of that train of thought, and Komaeda is looking at him properly now, sitting up with his legs crossed. He tilts his head to the side. "Did you not hear me?"

   "What?"

   "I asked you to do my back," Komaeda says, patiently. "If you can bear to touch me, that is."

   Case in point, Hinata thinks, but he uncaps the bottle and squeezes some of it out into his hand while Komaeda turns around and bows his head. The factor is absurdly high. Komaeda must burn easily - which would make sense, really, with his overall sickly demeanour and the skin so translucent that the deep blue veins show almost everywhere, but it's not like Komaeda to want to take care of himself. 

   Not that it matters. Hinata himself is more prone to freckling, but, strangely, his skin looks exactly the same as it did when he arrived.

   What a coincidence.

   "Your hair's in the way," he mumbles, slathering the lotion over the middle of Komaeda's back while the older boy hums in acknowledgement and holds it up and out of the way. He tries to cover everything, kneading his hands briefly over Komaeda's shoulders, avoiding the protrusion of his spine, but they've already probably crossed the boundary of public display of affection. Hinata genuinely can't recall whether he would've done this for a friend before the island. His perceptions have already changed so much, it hardly seems to matter one way or the other.

   " _Mmm_." Komaeda makes a familiar little sound of pleasure when Hinata squeezes over his shoulders again, firmer than he means to, digging the tips of his fingers in. He does it again, just to see if Komaeda is being loud on purpose. The encouraging " _oh_ ," he gets in response makes it clear that he probably is.

   In his periphery, Hinata sees Nanami walk by with her bag slung over her shoulder, headed towards the others. Her console is still on one hand, a cheery 8-bit refrain being led away with her.

   He'd forgotten she was even there.

   "Oh, how embarrassing," Komaeda says, as soon as she's out of earshot, in a way that doesn't sound embarrassed in the least. Hinata at least has the decency to blush some. "Do you think she could have heard us?"

   And there it is again, _us_ , even though Hinata didn't make any noise at all. Komaeda turns around again, sitting on his knees, and, looking mildly scandalized, takes Hinata's wrists in his hands just before Hinata can wipe them off on his towel.

   "What are you doing?" Komaeda asks, eyes wide. Hinata bites back the visceral reaction of panic, swallowing hard but feeling his pulse quicken right where Komaeda can feel it. He still hasn't quite mastered the whole _trust_ aspect yet. "You haven't done my front yet."

   "You can do that yourself," Hinata says, voice hard, and Komaeda lets his wrists go. Hinata takes them back, rubbing where he was grabbed him even though it doesn't hurt at all, and tries not to think about how Komaeda's fingers are so brittle that if he had tried to put up a fight, it wouldn't have been much of one.

   He hands the bottle back over, and Komaeda takes it from him. "Hmm. I suppose _so_."

   And then he smiles in a way that tells Hinata that he has made a huge mistake.

   Komaeda squeezes some of the lotion into his own hand, then sets the bottle down. He starts with his arms, covering them in a way that's nothing short of precursory, which gives Hinata the opportunity to settle back on his own towel and pretend to not be looking.

   Not that there's anything to look at. There shouldn't be anything _special_  about Komaeda running his hands all over himself, even though Hinata can't help remembering the sounds he usually makes when Hinata touches him instead. And his body looks nice in the sun - the play of the light disguises his sickly-pale tone, the dips between his ribs and the hard protrusion of his spine. Probably looks even better with a subtle glisten to it, if Hinata had to guess.

   He gets as far as picking up one of the books Komaeda brought and opening it at a random page before he gets bored of it. He sits up on his elbows, balancing the book face-down against chest, already sweat-damp beneath his shirt, and takes a sip of his drink while looking out over the ocean. He can hear the slap of it against the beach and the squeals of the girls playing in the surf. He has to half-bury his can to keep it upright, the sand is so soft. A lone gull circling overhead gets his attention for about two seconds before his curiosity gets the better of him and he glances over again to find that Komaeda's hands have stilled on his lower abdomen, waiting for Hinata to be watching as he slips his fingertips beneath the waistband of his swim shorts.

   And then, just as Hinata's heart seems to actually _stop_  in his chest, he keeps them there just long enough to take a cursory glance back over his shoulder to see if anyone is looking their way.

   Then, satisfied, he turns back and continues to slide his hands down beneath the fabric, and Hinata watches, dumbstruck, as he squeezes himself and lets out a breathless little moan, holding eye contact all the while.

   "What are you doing?" Hinata asks, with nowhere near as much venom as he would have liked.

   "I'm seducing you," Komaeda replies, easily. There's a steady flush working its way across his cheeks already, like Komaeda's body has already decided that this is happening. His usual method. He must know from experience - experience that Hinata has given him, wilfully handing it over time and time again - that it's awfully hard to say no to. "Isn't it working?"

   "They're going to kill us if they see," Hinata warns him, like it's an answer, and he regrets it instantly when Komaeda shudders in pleasure, touching himself a little more urgently.

   Hinata just pulls him down by the waist and kisses him before he can ask for details.

   (And usually it's the opposite, Komaeda dragging Hinata down into his depravity, down to his level -- that's what Hinata tells himself. That he's being dragged. Seduced.) 

   Komaeda lets out a little yelp as he goes, one hand bracing himself on the hot sand while he steadies himself. He trembles immediately, struggling to support his own weight, but he manages, barely, and Hinata wonders for a moment why he was so afraid of Komaeda just a moment ago; why his fear flickers on and off like a broken light, changes like the weather on the island doesn't.

   It's more likely to draw attention, now that Komaeda is mostly on top of him and it must be obvious even from a distance that they're sharing kisses, (and maybe less obvious that Komaeda still has a hand down the front of his own shorts), but it's not like everyone doesn't already know that Hinata is fraternizing with the enemy, as it were.

   Hinata runs his hands up Komaeda's back, scalding hot from the sun, and in a way, he's glad.

   "Back to your cabin?" Hinata asks, breaking away momentarily, but then Komaeda starts unfastening his belt buckle and his breath catches. "...Or not?"

   "Or not," Komaeda agrees, frantically, without looking up from what he's doing. Belt out of the way, he unzips Hinata's fly and pulls his trousers down just a bit. Enough to expose Hinata's arousal, but not much else. "Let's do it right here. On the beach."

   "Monokuma," Hinata reminds him, just Komaeda finally brings their bodies together again, rubbing himself right up against the front of Hinata's underwear, and for an instant, they both stop breathing.

   Komaeda shakes his head, eyes falling closed and arms shaking from the exertion of holding himself up. "...I don't care."

   And when Komaeda leans down to kiss him again, Hinata doesn't care either.

   It seems pointless to, when either of them could die any day now regardless, and even more pointless when he realises how much he'd missed the brush of Komaeda's lips on his.

   It wasn't what Hinata had expected from whatever _this_ is, (not when it had started with vicious words and ended with them rutting together like animals, but that feels like a world away now) -- but Komaeda seems to always make sure to kiss him as gently and thoroughly as possible, fragile kisses that make him almost afraid to respond for fear of breaking the care with which they're delivered.

   But it's worth it in the end, because Hinata has also discovered that Komaeda likes to _be_ kissed more than anything else.

   Dimly, Hinata is aware that the hand that was previously in Komaeda's underwear is sliding into his own, their fingers entwining, palms drawing close and tight. His knuckles against the sand, burning.

   Komaeda gasps, suddenly, into his mouth. "Your hands are cold," he says, without pulling away.

   "Your hands are always cold," Hinata retorts before he can register how intimate it is to say that, but the moment is gone before he can really cringe at it.

   "From-" Komaeda kisses him, chastely, in between his words, "-your drink, I mean."

   "Good cold?"

   "N-" Komaeda starts, but then Hinata brushes a thumb over his nipple and he goes rigid for a second, then seems to change his mind and nods.

   Hinata tilts his head to the side briefly, making sure the coast is clear, but their classmates are still little more than silhouettes down the beach and he has a feeling that nobody will be coming to check on them any time soon. Especially if they get close enough to see the way Komaeda is grinding against him, and the way Hinata has one calf slung over the back of Komaeda's knee to keep him close. So he keeps touching, running one hand down Komaeda's side while the other reaches blindly for the cooler.

   Komaeda has his eyes closed, forehead pressed to Hinata's, noses bumping together occasionally. He's still moving his hips, but more relaxed now. Drawing it out, and Hinata wonders what he's thinking about. If he's in the moment or losing himself.

   Hinata would like to be able to say that he loses himself when they do this. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that the sheets in their cabins belong to hotels - that now, this beach is private, this moment is private, and Komaeda is someone else, or maybe a version of himself that Hinata doesn't flinch away from when he moves too quickly, too erratically.

   But he doesn't close his eyes, and the cold brings him back from any half-remembered fantasy he could have had, staring at the clear blue sky.

   The ice cube burns at the tips of his fingers, already starting to melt from the contact, but he bares with it until he can't anymore and drops it down in the sand. When he touches Komaeda again, teasing over the ladder of protrusions that make up his ribs, the older boy trembles, pulling instinctively away and then pressing closer again as though he can't help himself.

   His fingertips skirt around, tracing the curve of his bottom rib before settling just to one side of his spine. For the first time, his skin radiates heat, and Hinata is sure that it isn't just shallow, that Komaeda can feel it too, the sun-kissed warmth all the way down to his bones and the way that Hinata is stealing it away, inch by inch.

   "This is how it feels every time you touch me," Hinata tells him, hushed. As though anyone could overhear them from this distance, but the cameras... 

   He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to remember that this -- whatever this is -- isn't really theirs. 

   "Then I should touch you m-more often," is the tentative response, and Komaeda seems to choke on air the moment Hinata takes his hand away, reaching for another ice cube. This one, he brushes directly over the back of Komaeda's thigh, drawing it upwards and inwards until it reaches the cuff of his shorts and he spasms and makes an incomprehensible sound, like he's asking Hinata to stop and continue at the same time. Hinata has to drop it between both their legs, onto the towel, bringing his hand to the small of Komaeda's back before he can complain about the loss of sensation.

   This time, he follows Komaeda's spine down, beneath the fabric of his shorts, and feels him squirm, his breathing laboured and his chest moving rapidly against Hinata's own. He's closer than Hinata is, but that's only normal - Hinata is always the one who has to make it count, has to pull Komaeda into one last breath-stealing kiss before he goes in for the kill, doesn't break eye contact when he says, "They're going to _murder_  us if they see."

   He touches one cold fingertip to Komaeda's hole and watches grey eyes grow impossibly wide, just inches from his own, as it sends Komaeda abruptly over the edge before he can even press inside, and it would be imperceptible if Hinata wasn't used to the expression of cloudy bliss on his face, nails digging into shoulder, his hips stuttering as he comes.

   "Hot," Hinata tells him under his breath.

   A moment later, Komaeda blinks at him like he's waking up, and then gives him a wobbly, sunny sort of smile. 


End file.
